


I Will Show You Love

by bethejerktomybitch



Series: Georgia on my Mind [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Mild Smut, Original Percival Graves Gets a Hug, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, several actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethejerktomybitch/pseuds/bethejerktomybitch
Summary: Georgia had been arrested by Percival Graves so many times she’d stopped counting. She knew how their little game worked – she pretended to not have done whatever he’d arrested her for this time, he pretended to actually want to charge her for it, and they both tried their hardest not to let anyone see that they enjoyed their banter far more than they would ever be willing to admit.This time, it was different. Graves sat down at the table across from her, looked at her from cold dark eyes. “This will be a lot easier for you if you start talking, Miss Kingsley.” he said coolly.That was when she knew something was wrong.Or: In which someone notices, and decides to take matters into their own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I shouldn't be starting a new fic when I still have two other in progress, but I have now written 20.000 words on this in four days and I can't stop. I've actually already started a few companion pieces from different perspectives, because that's apparently how I invested I am in this story. So I figured I might just as well upload it. 
> 
> English is still not my first language, and I still love comments. I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Georgia had been arrested by Percival Graves so many times she’d stopped counting. She knew how their little game worked – she pretended to not have done whatever he’d arrested her for this time, he pretended to actually want to charge her for it, and they both tried their hardest not to let anyone see that they enjoyed their banter far more than they would ever be willing to admit.

 

This time, it was different. Graves sat down at the table across from her, looked at her from cold dark eyes. “This will be a lot easier for you if you start talking, Miss Kingsley.” he said coolly.

 

That was when she knew something was wrong.

 

* * *

 

A Thunderbird at heart, part of Georgia wanted to attack and expose whoever was sitting in front of her – because it was certainly not Graves – right then and there. But for all her impulsivity, she wasn’t stupid, couldn’t afford to be. She had no illusions about Graves’ sheer magical power; for someone to manage to overpower and impersonate him to an extent that seemed to fool the MACUSA, they must have been frighteningly powerful – much too powerful for her to take on while being short a wand.

 

Georgia had a guess. If she was right, they were all in deep shit.

 

She did what she did best – smiled prettily and pretended not to know what he was talking about. Before long she had her wand and her magically extended handbag back and was sent on her merry way, for lack of concrete evidence against her.

 

That, of course, presented her with quite a dilemma. What was she going to do now?

 

If she went to MACUSA and told them she thought their director of magical security was an imposter, the best case scenario was that they would consider her a head case and kick her to the curb. Worst case scenario, they’d lock her up, and she could certainly do without that.

 

But doing nothing wasn’t an option either. Georgia might not always have operated strictly within the law, but that didn’t mean she wanted a dangerous madman in the second most powerful position in all of wizarding America. And besides, she’d grown rather fond of Graves; it bothered her quite a bit that he was currently either being imprisoned and tortured or already dead and not one of his colleagues seemed to have noticed. 

 

Georgia sighed. Evidently, she would need proof to convince MACUSA they had an imposter who was possibly a fanatic dark wizard in their midst. And the easiest way to go about obtaining that proof was to find the real Graves.

 

It was time to take matters into her own hands.

 

* * *

 

Finding out where Graves lived wasn’t hard. Getting into his apartment was a lot harder.

 

It was impressively warded, and while Georgia had had considerable experience getting past such wards, Graves was no ordinary wizard, and she had an inkling that maybe-Grindelwald had added some of his own spells on top of Graves’. The result proved challenging even for her, and it took her some two hours to finally find a weak spot that allowed her to slip in undetected.

 

Graves’ apartment was nice, she thought as she strode through his sitting room, if a little austere, lacking any personal mementos or photographs. In fact, the place had the feeling of one decidedly not lived in, something that didn’t strike Georgia as odd, considering what she’d seen of how much Graves lived for his job. Still, she couldn’t help but find it a little sad, especially because at said job no one had noticed he was gone.

 

“ _Homenum Revelio._ ” she said.

 

Her spell swept across the apartment, coming back to her empty and hollow, and yet there was something there, a strange humming sensation that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Georgia stepped into the hallway and cast the spell again, and this time she could pinpoint where the humming was coming from.

 

With a fling of her wand the door on her left swung open and revealed a room lined with bookshelves, a heavy oaken desk in the middle – Graves’ study, presumably. “ _Revelio._ ” Georgia said as she stepped inside. A leather-bound tome on top of the shelf on the opposite wall trembled.

 

Georgia snorted. It was really terribly clichéd, to hide something behind a bookshelf, but she wouldn’t complain about maybe-Grindelwald making things easy on her.

 

The book, some awfully dry-looking volume on the theory of counterjinxes, didn’t budge when she tried to levitate it. Another revealing charm didn’t accomplish anything either. Georgia checked for wards, and found a thickly woven web interspersed with some hexes so palpably dark they made her shiver. Not Graves’ work, she was sure of that. The man was shockingly honorable; he’d never stoop to magic that horrific.

 

Georgia thought she could probably weasel her way through them, given enough time, but time was something she didn’t have the luxury of right now. The man wearing Graves’ face could come back at any time, and she really didn’t fancy an encounter with him. It would have to be brute force then, even though she usually hated a solution that inelegant.

 

She pointed her wand at the space between the shelves where she could feel the wards ending, wrapped herself in the strongest shield charm she could muster and cast a muffling charm around the whole room before she said: “ _Bombarda Maxima._ ”

 

The wall came apart in an explosion of rubble and loose pages, pieces of debris littering the carpeted floor. Some of the dark hexes went off even though Georgia had taken care not to go near them; two bounced off her shield charm, one she dodged neatly, but another one – a nastily powerful slashing hex – left a bloody cut across her upper arm. Georgia hissed, assessed the damage, and decided she could deal with it later.

 

With a wave of her wand, the dust cleared from the air. There was a room behind the bookshelf, half-collapsed under the onslaught of her exploding charm. It had no visible entrance and no furniture at all, the walls and floor made from cold blank stone, but none of that mattered much to Georgia, because there was a man slumped into the far corner.

 

A string of curses, the non-magical kind, left her mouth as she hurried over to him. It was Graves, and he looked terrible.

 

He was thin, disquietingly so – Merlin, how long had he been in here already? – his clothes were torn, dirty and soaked with blood and what was visible of his skin was covered in cuts and bruises, most of them fresh or barely healed. He was also pale as a sheet, and showed no reaction at all to a wall exploding in front of him.

 

Georgia felt for his pulse with an odd sinking feeling. It was there, throbbing weakly against her fingers, filling her with relief that was stronger than it should have been. “Graves.” she said. “Graves, hey, you with me?”

 

His eyelids fluttered. He let out a low groan and finally his eyes opened completely, though he appeared to have trouble focusing.

 

Georgia smiled at him. “There you are.” she said. “I was afraid you were dying on me for a second there, old man.”

 

Graves blinked, confusion marking his features. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and barely audible. “Kingsley?”

 

She smirked. “The one and only. Come on, let’s get you out of here, before the asshole who put you in here in the first place comes back.”

 

That got a proper response out of him – a panicked gasp, horror in his eyes. Georgia didn’t think she had ever seen Graves scared; it made something twist inside her stomach. “No, Kingsley, you can’t be here, Grindelwald… get help, he…” He trailed off, eyes still wide and fearful. Out of some instinct she couldn’t quite catalogue, she squeezed his arm reassuringly.

 

“So it is Grindelwald.” she said, keeping her voice carefully calm. “I figured as much. All the more reason to get out of here as fast as we can. Can you stand?”

 

As she dragged him to his feet, it became clear that he was in even worse condition than she’d originally thought. Apparently Grindelwald enjoyed physical torture just as much as the Cruciatus curse – Graves’ right leg was practically shattered, from his shallow, labored breathing she guessed he had at least a couple of broken ribs and there was a head wound too, matting his dark hair with blood.

 

“You can’t take me with you.” Graves said even as he swayed dangerously, leaning most of his weight on her. “Grindelwald, he’ll find me, he…”

 

“Don’t worry.” she said, shifting her wand to her free left hand. “I know a place where he won’t be able to get to you.”

 

The decision wasn’t really a decision at all. By rights she should’ve taken Graves to MACUSA, but that was where Grindelwald was and she didn’t trust them to keep Graves safe when he was in no shape to protect himself. A hospital was out for the same reason, so that left her with only one option where they’d be safe. And if that meant letting Graves in on the Fidelius charm protecting her home – well, she’d known for a while she trusted him more than she should.

 

She managed to maneuver Graves down the hallway and through the front door. As soon as they were out of the anti-apparition wards, she grabbed his arm as tightly as she could and spun them both into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

The strain of apparating was enough to make Graves pass out again, his dead weight sinking to the floor as soon as they had landed inside her Upper East Side townhouse. Georgia cursed again and then called for Tammy.

 

Together, she and the aged house-elf who had served her family for years moved Graves to one of the guest rooms where they treated his wounds to the best of their abilities. Neither of them were trained healers, but Georgia was fairly proficient with simple healing spells and kept a number of useful potions on hand while Tammy had her own little tricks. When they were done, Georgia was satisfied that Graves wasn’t in acute danger anymore, and probably in considerably less pain than before even as the skele-gro worked on his leg, skull, ribs and assortment of other broken bones. There’d be scars, and she doubted his shattered right leg would ever be quite the same, but it would have to be enough.

 

Downstairs in the sitting room, she poured herself a glass of firewhiskey and downed it in one gulp as Tammy treated the cut on her arm. With grim satisfaction, she imagined Grindelwald coming back to find Graves gone. It felt almost as good as the adrenaline rush of stealing something.

 

* * *

 

“Miss Georgia.”

 

Tammy’s squeaky voice woke her early the next morning. Georgia blinked blearily against the pale sunlight streaming in through her window. “What is it, Tammy?” she asked, her voice muffled by her pillow.

 

“It’s Mr. Graves.” replied Tammy. “He’s awake and trying to get up, Miss.”

 

Georgia was wide awake immediately. “That stubborn idiot.” she muttered under her breath before she turned to Tammy again. “Thanks, Tammy, I’ll be right there.” she said. “Keep an eye on him until I get there, will you?” The house-elf vanished with a nod and a loud crack.

 

Georgia hastily pulled on a robe over her nightgown and hurried down the hallway towards the room they’d put Graves in yesterday. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, ghostly pale and hair disheveled, evidently having had no success in trying to get up. For a moment Georgia had the entirely inappropriate thought of how ridiculously handsome he was, even in the abysmal state he was currently in.

 

His eyes widened when he saw her, though his gaze was still somewhat unfocused – she hadn’t dared to do much about his head wound besides closing up the superficial skin lacerations; injuries involving the brain were a tricky thing and sometimes one could do more harm than good when trying to heal them.

 

“You’re not Grindelwald.” he said.

 

Georgia leant against the doorframe, her lips twitching. “Astutely observed.” she said dryly. “You don’t remember?”

 

Graves’ forehead furrowed. “Vaguely.” he admitted. “I thought it was a dream. Did you… am I really…?”

 

Her smile softened. “Safe, yeah.” she said. “This place is under the Fidelius charm and I’m secret keeper; Grindelwald ain’t getting in here.”

 

Graves let out a shuddering exhale. For a moment he didn’t seem to know what to say. Finally he asked: “How did you know?”

 

“Grindelwald arrested me, wearing your face.” she explained. “I knew it wasn’t you when he didn’t find my witty replies to his questions exceedingly amusing.”

 

His lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was probably as much as she was going to get. As quickly as it had come, however, the almost-smile vanished again. “Why did you get me out?” asked Graves, so quietly she could barely hear him.

 

Georgia shrugged, giving him a lopsided smile. “I might or might not be a thief, but I’m definitely not a fascist.” she said. “Grindelwald is not the sort of person I want in any position of power. And besides, I’d miss our banter terribly, wouldn’t you?”

 

Graves only looked at her, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite read. Eventually he asked: “Did you alert MACUSA?”

 

She snorted. “Do you really think they’d believe me if I told them I thought Grindelwald was posing as their director of magical security?” she asked. “I needed proof first. And to be honest, I didn’t really trust them to not screw things up even if they believed me. I wanted to get you out safely before they’d realize and start to panic.”

 

He blinked slowly. This time, she could see what he was thinking very clearly, even though the emotions flickered over his face in quick succession – surprise, followed by gratitude and then a nervous uneasiness. He cleared his throat. “Grindelwald might be long gone by now, if he noticed I escaped.” he said.

 

“He might.” Georgia admitted. “But I really don’t think he is. The wards holding you weren’t as effective as they could’ve been, almost as if he got sloppy. He’s arrogant, thinks he’s infallible. I’m fairly sure he’s going to stick around for as long as he can, for whatever he impersonated you for in the first place.”

 

“The obscurus.” Graves looked like the words had slipped out inadvertently, but when she raised her eyebrows he continued hesitatingly. “These disturbances in the city – Grindelwald thinks it’s an obscurus, and he believes it’s connected to his boy I was trying to help… before. Credence. He has some magical heritage, but his mother… his adoptive mother abuses him. Grindelwald’s trying to gain his trust to learn about the obscurus, I think.”

 

Georgia let out a sharp breath. “Shit, really, an obscurus? I thought there hadn’t been one for centuries.” She sighed. “I guess we’re going to have to alert MACUSA sooner than later. Tammy?”

 

The house-elf appeared with a loud crack, making Graves flinch violently. “Yes, Miss Georgia?”

 

“Tammy, be a dear and get as message to President Picquery.” she said. “Tell her that the Percival Graves she has there at MACUSA is Grindelwald in disguise, but that the real one is safe. Tell her…” Georgia hesitated. She needed something to convince the president that the message was genuine, something to convince she wasn’t spinning crazy conspiracy theories out of nowhere. The easiest thing to do, of course, would be to just march Graves into the Woolworth building, but he could barely even stand and there was no telling how Grindelwald would react to being confronted. Most likely he’d try to kill Graves as soon as they left the security of her house to preserve his cover.

 

To her surprise, Graves cut in, addressing Tammy. “Tell her Grindelwald pulled a Campbell. She’ll understand.” Tammy nodded obediently. “Yes, Sir, Miss. Tammy will take care of it.” She vanished with another crack.

 

Georgia looked at Graves with amusement. “Pulled a Campbell?” she asked.

 

His lips twitched into that almost-smile again. “Campbell was a student in our year at Ilvermorny.” he said. “He brewed polyjuice potion, impersonated a professor and stole the answers to the exams before we took them. Quite like Grindelwald, minus the fascism.”

 

Georgia grinned. It was good to see some of Graves’ dry humor, even after the torture he had undergone from Grindelwald’s hands. “Alright then.” she said and straightened. “Now that that’s taken care of, what do you think about breakfast?”

 

Graves’ throat worked soundlessly, as if he was trying not to throw up. He grimaced. “Just coffee for me, I think.” She winced sympathetically, but made herself smirk at him nonetheless. “Got you, old man. Come on.”

 

* * *

 

He was steadier on his feet than the evening before, though it seemed to hurt him to put weight on his right leg and his head wound was evidently still giving him issues with balance. He leant onto her shoulder on the way to the kitchen, and sank into a chair with a breath of relief.

 

With a flick of her wand, Georgia set the coffee pot to brewing and began to prepare some scrambled eggs and bacon for herself. As soon as she was done, she passed a steaming hot cup of strong black coffee to Graves and dug into her breakfast, flicking through the pages of the New York Ghost distractedly. There was an article about a wealthy business man losing a priceless magical artefact, and Georgia chortled. Said artefact was currently sitting in a hidden room in her basement, awaiting payment from the wizard who had hired her to steal it.

 

Graves looked at her questioningly and she made a dismissive gesture. “You wouldn’t find it as funny as I do.” she assured him.

 

Before he could answer Tammy reappeared, making him flinch once more, though no one could really blame him for his jumpiness. “Miss Georgia, Mr. Graves.” said the house-elf solemnly. “Grindelwald has escaped.”

 

Georgia let out a string of colorful curses. Graves went white, his hand holding the coffee cup suddenly shaking. There was panic on his face again, clear in his tensed jaw and his wide eyes. “What happened, Tammy?” asked Georgia, barely contained anger in her voice.

 

“As soon as Tammy brought Miss Georgia’s message to President Picquery, Madam sent aurors to apprehend Grindelwald.” the house-elf explained. “He overpowered them all and disapparated.”

 

Graves went whiter still, though she wouldn’t have thought that possible. He was breathing too fast and too shallow, hands shaking so hard she was surprised he hadn’t spilled any coffee yet. “Graves.” she said, doing her best to make the angry edge disappear from her voice for a moment. “Graves, hey, that doesn’t change the fact he’s not getting in here. Take a breath, okay?”

 

His eyes found hers and slowly his breathing began to even out a little. She shot him a tiny, encouraging smile.

 

Tammy cleared her throat. “The Madam President requests a meeting with Miss Georgia and Mr. Graves, Miss, Sir.”

 

Georgia scoffed. “Madam President can shove her requests up her ass.” she muttered under her breath. But of course, they’d have to face President Picquery eventually, even though Graves seemed in no condition to face any part of the outside world.

 

“When?” She turned to see Graves had spoken. The coffee cup was standing securely on the counter and he seemed to have his breathing back under control, but he still looked pale and shaken.

 

“Are you sure?” she asked before Tammy could answer. “As soon as you leave this house, Grindelwald will be able to get to you. And I’d really rather not let the president of the MACUSA in on my Fidelius charm.”

 

Graves pulled himself together with a visible effort. “We can apparate directly into the DMLE if Seraphina gives us permission.” he said, his confidence utterly unconvincing. “Grindelwald won’t… he won’t have any chance to attack.”

 

Georgia looked at him for a moment, unsure whether he was really in any shape to do this. Finally, she sighed. “Do you really want to do this today?” she asked. He grimaced. “Best get it over with.”

 

She sighed again and squared her shoulders before turning to Tammy. “Fine. Tammy, please ask President Picquery to give us permission to apparate into the DMLE. And tell her to keep her aurors more alert, for fuck’s sake.”


	2. Chapter 2

Graves staggered when they landed inside the main office of the DMLE, but he didn’t pass out this time, which Georgia counted as a success. At first glance the bullpen seemed deserted, but when Georgia felt Graves tense next to her she followed his line of sight and saw a group of witches and wizards standing at the far wall, President Picquery in their midst. Most of them seemed like various government officials, but a few were clearly aurors, their training visible in their tense stances and drawn wands.

 

They all turned and looked at them when they heard the crack of apparition. Graves drew in a shaky breath, and Georgia stepped a little closer to him. “Say the word and I’ll apparate us out of here.” she said very quietly.

 

He gave her a wobbly half-smile. “I appreciate it.” he said. “But I think I’ll be fine.” Georgia smiled back encouragingly. “I’m sure you will.” she said. “Still, the offer stands.”

 

Graves kept his hand on her shoulder as they approached. Picquery’s eyes narrowed slightly, but whatever the president was reading into that gesture, Georgia knew that it was only because he wouldn’t have been able to stay upright otherwise. Even so he was limping heavily and it clearly hurt him to walk.

 

Picquery stepped forward from among the small crowd. “Percival.” she said. “I am deeply sorry for our failure to notice that Grindelwald was impersonating you. We should have realized and initiated a timely rescue.” Georgia instantly liked the woman a little more. It took guts to admit your mistakes in public, especially if you were the leader of wizarding America whose future depended on the trust of voters.

 

Graves straightened noticeably. “Thank you.” he said stiffly.

 

Picquery almost smiled before she said: “We will need to debrief you, of course. In private, preferably.” Her gaze darted towards Georgia at her last words, an edge to them that her voice hadn’t previously carried.

 

Georgia was about to reply, but Graves beat her to it. “She stays.” he said surprisingly sharply. She stared at him a bit flabbergasted, not having expected him to come to her defense quite so emphatically.

 

The president’s eyes narrowed again. “Wasn’t Miss Kingsley arrested for grand larceny only yesterday?”

 

Georgia smiled at her sweetly. “Yes, but Miss Kingsley was also let go without any charges being filed.” she said. “There’s this thing called burden of proof, you see, and your investigators didn’t quite meet it.”

 

Picquery looked like she had just bitten into a lemon. But with Graves insisting that Georgia was to be present for the debriefing, there really wasn’t much she could do, so eventually she inclined her head slightly. “Alright then.” she said. “Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

Georgia thought Graves handled the debriefing remarkably well. There were a dozen or so officials plus the president herself posing him all sorts of questions about his captivity, what Grindelwald had told him about his plans and what Graves had revealed in turn, and he answered them all with a practiced calm that seemed only a little strained at the edges.

 

Finally, they also asked Georgia about how she’d pulled off her rescue of Graves. She took an inappropriate amount of pleasure in pointing out how she’d noticed she hadn’t been talking to the real Graves right away, while Grindelwald had been prancing around under their noses for weeks without anyone being the wiser. Picquery glared at her for that.

 

When it was over, Graves seemed very exhausted and a little lost as he got to his feet, holding on to the table for balance, his face contorting in pain as he put weight on his right leg. Picquery approached them, something in her hand. “Grindelwald left this, when he disapparated.” she said. “You should have it back.”

 

It was a wand, elegantly carved from ebony and inlaid with silver, and Georgia recognized it – Graves’ wand. He took it a little hesitantly, holding it strangely far away from his body as if it was going to explode. “Thank you.” he said, his voice oddly flat.

 

Picquery looked like she wanted to say something else, but before she could Georgia leant towards Graves. “Do you want to take me up on that offer now?” she asked so quietly that only he could hear her.

 

For a moment he seemed torn, then his shoulders sagged slightly. “Yes.” he said. “Please.”

 

Georgia grabbed his arm, steadying him. She turned towards President Picquery with a smile. “Thank you for your time, Madam President, but we’ll be going now.” she said sweetly. “Please send any communication through my house-elf Tammy or by owl. Good day.”

 

The last thing she saw before she disapparated was the president’s enraged face.

 

* * *

 

Graves closed his eyes and tipped his head back as soon as he had sat down on one of the sofas in her sitting room, looking about ready to go back to sleep even though it was barely noon. Georgia watched him for a moment, forehead furrowed. He really was terribly thin, and he hadn’t eaten anything this morning either.

 

“Tammy.” she said. The house-elf appeared immediately, and Graves barely even flinched – more progress.

 

Georgia smiled at the elf. “Prepare us some lunch, Tammy, would you?” she said. “Something hot. Maybe that stew you used to make when I was a kid.”

 

Tammy disappeared again, not without a squeaked “Of course, Miss Georgia”, and Graves’ eyes opened. “I’m not hungry.” he said hoarsely.

 

Georgia rolled her eyes. “I don’t care.” she said. “You’re way too thin. When’s the last time you had a proper meal?”

 

Graves didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at her with an expression that she couldn’t quite read, the gaze from his dark eyes making her skin prickle for a moment. When he eventually spoke, it was so quiet she could barely hear him. “Why are you doing all this?”

 

The answer to that question was complicated, of course, and Georgia wasn’t quite sure she understood the reasoning behind her actions herself. She liked Graves more than she should, with them being on opposite sides on the law and all that, but there was something else there too. Her heart ached at the thought that no one had known him well enough to notice he had been replaced, and she felt a strange sense of responsibility to make sure he’d be alright, though perhaps responsibility wasn’t all there was to it.

 

All that was too complicated to put into words, though, and so she retorted with a question of her own. “Well, why are you still here? I’m a dangerous criminal, for all you know. Why are you letting me do all this?”

 

This time, Graves was silent for even longer. Finally he spoke, not looking at her, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. “You noticed.” he said. “No one else did. No one else cared. I could’ve been locked in that room forever, and no one would’ve been the wiser if you hadn’t come along. But you noticed, and you cared enough to do something about it.” He swallowed visibly, and when he looked at her again she shivered. “I guess… I guess for whatever reason, I trust you.” he added.

 

Georgia could count the times she’d been speechless in her life on one hand. This was one of them.

 

She wanted to hug him. She wanted to march back to MACUSA and rip them all a new one for screwing up like they had. She wanted to do something, anything, to prove worthy of the overwhelming amount of trust he had placed in her, the way he had bared his heart and soul to her for a moment. She felt choked up, realizing that she was the one person Percival Graves trusted enough anymore to feel safe around.

 

What she finally settled on was to say: “Look, Graves, I don’t know why, but I care about you. I want you to be okay. I want to help. Let me help.”

 

There was more silence before a weak smile began tugging at Graves’ lips. “Fine.” he said. “I’ll eat some stew, if that’ll make you happy.”

 

Georgia grinned. “It would make me positively ecstatic.”

 

* * *

 

As they sat in the kitchen eating the delicious stew Tammy had prepared, the rich smell reminding Georgia a lot of when she had been a little girl in this very house, she watched Graves once again. He looked like every spoonful made him want to throw up, but he kept his promise and choked them down with a face of stoic composure. Georgia decided that this was as good a time as any to bring up something he had noticed during the debriefing at MACUSA.

 

“You didn’t mention the boy to Picquery.” she said. “Credence, wasn’t it?”

 

Graves froze, the spoon stopping halfway to his mouth. “I… didn’t.” he repeated carefully.

 

Georgia sighed. Apparently, she’d have to push him a little harder for answer. “Why?” she asked.

 

Graves sighed and slowly put his spoon down. He seemed to consider his words carefully before he spoke. “Because MACUSA would use him to get to the obscurus. Because they’d do whatever it took to neutralize the threat, and they wouldn’t try to help Credence, just to get information out of him. I think he still deserves help.”

 

 _Shockingly honorable,_ Georgia thought again. It was a small miracle he even liked her at all, considering what he knew she did for a living. She agreed with him on this point, though. “Right.” she said. “Do you want me to go find Credence? Get him somewhere safe, make sure Grindelwald doesn’t get to him?”

 

Graves looked taken aback. “You’d… do that?” he asked haltingly.

 

Georgia shrugged. “I have a soft spot for troubled kids.” she said. “Also, I don’t particularly want one of the most destructive magical forces known to wizardkind in Grindelwald’s hands, so maybe I can help Credence and find out where the obscurus is at the same time. And you really shouldn’t go yourself, with Grindelwald on the loose.”

 

For a moment Graves looked at her as if she had just done something extremely marvelous. Then he inclined his head slightly. “You’ll have to get Credence to trust you first.” he said. “He’s scared, rightfully so. And I don’t know what Grindelwald said or did to him while I was… well.”

 

He’d tensed again at the mention of Grindelwald, and Georgia shot him a smile. “I think I can manage that.” she said.

 

Graves’ lips twitched. “I don’t doubt it.” he said softly.

 

Georgia shivered again. _Merlin,_ what was it about this man?

 

* * *

 

They decided she would go find Credence the next day, and spent the rest of that day digging through the books in her sizable home library for any information they could find on obscuri and obscurials, neither of them talking too much. It was almost midnight when Georgia finally went to bed, Graves settled in the guest room down the hall.

 

She awoke to a dull thump, and her wand was in her hand before she was even really awake.

 

Georgia lay completely still, wand at the ready, listening tensely for any other sounds. She barely dared to breathe, every muscle in her body tight with nervous anticipation. Logically, she knew that there was no way to get past her Fidelius charm unless she gave up the secret, but the fear that Grindelwald had come for Graves was still there, buzzing at the edge of her mind.

 

There was another thump. Now that she was more awake, Georgia could tell that the sounds were coming from Graves’ room. She got to her feet and grabbed her wand tighter, ignoring the way her stomach flipped in fear. Graves was in no shape to put up any sort of resistance; if there was really someone in the house, she’d have to fight them off.

 

Georgia stepped into the hallway on bare feet and cast a silent Homenum Revelio charm. It told her that there was only one other person on the floor with her – Graves. Her forehead furrowed in confusion. What in Merlin’s name was going on?

 

As she crept closer to the guest room, she heard something else through the slightly ajar door – whimpers, murmured begs. “No, no, please.” Graves was saying. “No, please don’t, please stop, I’ll do anything, no, no, please, no, stop, I can’t take it anymore!” Her heart lurching in her chest, Georgia pulled the door open.

 

Graves was in bed, thrashing around wildly, pale and sweat-soaked. His eyes were closed, even as he kept begging someone to stop, his face a grimace of pain.

 

Immediately, Georgia realized what was happening. She felt a brief surge of relief as she lowered her wand before she hurried over to him, gently touching his shoulder. “Graves.” she said softly. “Hey, Graves, wake up, it’s only a dream. Come on, open your eyes.”

 

He barely reacted, incoherent whispers still spilling from his lips. Georgia’s heart broke for him a little as she imagined the memories he had to be reliving right now, all the horrible things Grindelwald had no doubt done to him. “Graves.” she said again. “Percival. It’s a dream, just a dream. You’re safe now, just open your eyes, okay?”

 

His eyes snapped open. They were wide, glassy with panic and pain, and before Georgia could even process what was happening his hand was curled around her throat and the tip of his wand jammed under her chin.

 

Georgia went very still, not daring to move even the slightest bit for fear of startling him. He was clearly still caught in his nightmare, the memories more tangible to him than reality, and anything she did that could even remotely be interpreted as threatening could cause him to panic and attack her.

 

“Percival.” she said quietly, fighting to keep her voice steady and soothing. “Percival, it’s me, Georgia. You’re safe. You’re not with Grindelwald anymore. Just put the wand down, yeah?”

 

For a moment he only stared at her with wild eyes. Then his whole body went slack, his hand falling away and his wand clattering to the ground. He collapsed in on himself, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts and his shoulders shaking violently. Georgia was pretty sure he was crying.

 

“I’m sorry.” he squeezed out, his voice choked and barely audible. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to…”

 

Georgia sat down next to him, squeezing his shoulder. “I know you didn’t mean to.” she said softly. “It’s okay. No harm done.”

 

Graves raised his head and looked at her, tear tracks on his cheeks and his eyes full of panic and a fair amount of guilt. “I could’ve hurt you.” he said, horrified. “I could’ve… I could’ve…”

 

She interrupted him with a wry smile. “First off, don’t overestimate yourself. You’re not in any shape to take on me right now; I could kick your ass from here to Europe. Second, you didn’t. There’s no use stressing out about something that didn’t happen.”

 

He didn’t seem reassured in the slightest, just curled in on himself even more. His breathing was too fast and too shallow, dangerously close to hyperventilating. He looked very young like this, and very vulnerable, and for a second Georgia felt the urge to hug him and shield him from the world.

 

“Percival.” she said softly. It felt strange to call him by his first name, but the situation seemed too intimate to keep using his last. “Look at me. You need to breathe, okay? Deep breaths, just like that. In, and out. And again. In, and out. Yeah, you’re doing great.”

 

Eventually Georgia stopped talking, just sat next to Graves in silence as she listened to his breathing slowly even out. A good ten minutes had passed by the time she asked carefully: “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

He grimaced. “Not really.” he said hoarsely.

 

Georgia didn’t argue. “I think I have a few bottle of dreamless sleep potion.” she said. “Do you want some?”

 

There was only a bit of hesitation. “Yes.” he whispered. “Please.”

 

* * *

 

Graves fell asleep again quickly after he’d taken the potion, but Georgia was too pent-up for sleep. She spent the rest of the night in the library continuing their research, periodically peeking into Graves’ room to make sure he was still sound asleep.

 

Morning found her in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee – her third – in front of her and a book about obscuri propped open on the table. She had already dressed in her most unremarkable clothes in preparation of her search for Credence; the clothes she normally wore would make her stand out like a sore thumb in the part of town she’d most likely find him in. Tammy was bustling around the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

 

“Good morning.” Georgia looked up from her book, startled. Graves was standing in the doorway, pale and wearing some of her father’s old clothes she’d given him. His jaw was clenched in pain and it seemed like the frame he was holding on to was about the only thing keeping him upright, but apparently he had made it here on his own in spite of his bad leg, which was something.

 

“Morning.” she said, choosing not to mention his nightmare. “Coffee?”

 

“Please.” He made his way to the table slowly, holding on to furniture as he went, clearly not able to put much weight on his right leg without being in excruciating pain. Georgia wondered what exactly Grindelwald had done to it; she’d suggested seeing a proper healer about it yesterday but Graves had refused.

 

She waved her wand and a cup came flying from the cupboard, filling with coffee and landing in front of Graves. He drank it quickly; apparently he was the kind of person who needed some caffeine in his bloodstream just to function, something that Georgia could relate to all too well.

 

When he had finished his coffee and she had refilled the cup with a flick of her wand, she said: “I’m going to go and try to find Credence after breakfast. If you need anything while I’m gone, just ask Tammy.”

 

“Yeah, alright.” he replied. He was silent for a moment, visibly uncomfortable, then he cleared his throat. “About last night…”

 

Georgia interrupted him. “It’s alright.” she said, smiling at him. “The dreamless sleep potion is there if you need it. Just… don’t take too much, yeah? That stuff is addictive. I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

 

Graves gave her a weak smile. “Thanks.” he said. Georgia found it strangely sad that he felt the need to thank her for everything she did.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The New Salem Philanthropic Society had its headquarters in a dingy church on Pike Street. Georgia cast a Disillusionment charm over herself and then took up her place in an entryway across the street, waiting for a boy that matched the description Graves had given her of Credence.

 

When Credence finally stepped out of the church, she knew that it was him immediately. He was pale, with dark hair and dark eyes, and carried himself in a way that made him appear shorter than he actually was. He also kept shooting glances over his shoulder, as if he was afraid someone was following him.

 

Georgia watched him for a moment. Then she took a breath, shook off the Disillusionment charm, and approached him just as he was out of eyeshot of the church. “Excuse me?”

 

Credence turned, clearly startled, but some of the fear vanished from his expression when he laid eyes on her. It did sometimes have its advantages that at barely a shade over five feet, Georgia didn’t look threatening at all. “Are you… talking to me?” he asked, voice so quiet she could barely hear him over the general bustle of the street. He wasn’t looking her in the eye but instead staring at her shoes.

 

She smiled at him. “I am, yeah.” she said. “You’re Credence, right? I’m Georgia.”

 

He backed away a step, visibly freaked out. “How do you… how do you know my name?”

 

Georgia hesitated for a moment. She didn’t know what Grindelwald disguised as Graves had said or done to him, didn’t know what associations the name carried for him, but she couldn’t think of another approach from the top of her head. “Graves sent me.” she said.

 

Credence tensed slightly, but didn’t run. Nothing too bad had happened then, not yet. “Why did he sent you?” he asked. “Why didn’t he come himself?”

 

Georgia sighed. This would be hard to explain, but she didn’t want to lie to Credence; if she wanted him to trust her in the long run, she’d have to be honest with him. She didn’t want to do it here in the street, however. “That’s a really long story.” she said. “Can I buy you lunch? You look hungry.”

 

He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “I have to hand out all these pamphlets today, I…”

 

She interrupted him, still smiling. “I can help with that.” she assured him. “Just a little lunch. Please? It’s important. I only want to help you, I promise.”

 

Georgia thought he’d say no. She really did. Credence had no reason to trust her, a strange woman he had never seen before in his life who was claiming to have been sent by a man he probably had no reason to rust either. But then he surprised her tremendously by nodding his head ever so slightly. “Alright.” he said. “But… but we have to go somewhere no one will see us.”

 

* * *

 

Georgia bought him hotdogs at a stand a couple blocks from the church and watched him eat ravenously as if he hadn’t had proper food in days, licking the ketchup and mustard from his fingers. She was beginning to suspect that the promise of food was the only reason he had agreed to come with her in the first place; it was suddenly much easier to understand why Graves wanted to help him so badly. He seemed so young, so helpless, even though he was already in his early twenties.

 

When he was done with his hotdogs, she asked: “How about something sweet? There’s a stand not far from here that sells great donuts.”

 

Credence hesitated, a look on his face as if he expected her offer to be a trap, but eventually he nodded. Georgia smiled. “Great.” she said. “Come on then.”

 

She bought a bag full of glazed donuts and Credence at them almost as quickly as he had the hotdogs, as if he feared someone would take them away from him if he didn’t eat fast enough. As he was picking the last of the crumbs from the bag, Georgia decided to finally tell him what she’d come here for in the first place. She flicked her wand inside her sleeve, casting a muffling charm around them, before she began to talk.

 

“Credence, I need to tell you something about the man you know as Mr. Graves.” He didn’t look at her, but she could tell he was listening, so she continued carefully. “It wasn’t him, Credence. For the last few weeks, it wasn’t the real Mr. Graves. A very bad man has been disguising himself as him to get you to trust him.”

 

Credence looked at her now, eyes wide with fear. “What?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Why?”

 

Georgia sighed. “These things that have been happening in the city… he told you that it was an obscurus? The kind of thing that develops when a child suppresses their magic?”

 

He nodded, even though he flinched at the word magic, looking around nervously. Georgia continued. “Well, the man – his name is Grindelwald – he wants to use the obscurus for its power. He’s using you to try and find out who it is. Everything he told you about wanting to help you was a lie.”

 

Credence was visibly shaking now, fear written in every line of his face. “Why should I believe you?” he asked. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

Georgia gave him sad smile. “I’m telling you all this because I want to help you, and the child Grindelwald is after.” She took a deep breath. “I understand if you don’t trust me. Just do me a favor, okay?”

 

She pulled a round silver coin with the image of a thunderbird on the front out of her coat pocket, the matching one securely tucked away, and held it out to Credence. “If the man who looks like Mr. Graves comes back, of if you’re in any other sort of danger, just press the coin into the palm of your hand and I’ll know.”

 

Credence stared at it with distrust, and she smiled at him again. “Please?”

 

An eternity seemed to pass before he reached out and took it, letting it slip into his own coat pocket. Then he got to his feet abruptly and hurried towards the end of the street without another word, the New Salemer pamphlet clutched tightly to his chest.

 

Georgia watched him vanish with a strange sinking feeling.

 

* * *

 

When she got home, after having sneaked through the MACUSA wards around Graves’ ruined apartment to get some of this things, she was greeted by a thump and a curse, both coming from the library. Georgia shrugged off her coat and went to see what the commotion was.

 

Graves was sitting in an armchair, right leg propped up on a stool and his wand in hand. Books were scattered on the floor around him, and he was scowling in a mixture of anger and frustration. “Are you trying to destroy my books on purpose?” Georgia asked mildly, leaning into the doorway.

 

He turned to look at her. “No.” he said, a bitter note in his voice. “But apparently even a simple levitation charm is beyond me now.”

 

Georgia walked into the room slowly, sitting down in an armchair across from him, before she said: “Well, you were held captive and tortured for weeks. It’s only natural that your magic needs time to recover.”

 

Graves scoffed. “Just as my leg needs time to recover, you mean? I can barely even stand, let alone walk more than a few steps. Do you think time will fix that too?”

 

He was lashing out, and Georgia decided that brutal honesty was the only thing that might reach him now. “No.” she said. “I think your leg will never be the same as it was before. But you can’t change that. It happened, and you can’t make it unhappen. So you can either keep being a colossal asshole and bitch to me about things that are far out of my control, or you can arrange yourself with the situation and try to make the best of it.”

 

Graves stared at her for a moment, clearly having expected her to sugarcoat things, before his anger reappeared. “That’s easy for you to say.” he snapped. “Your leg and magic are fine, aren’t they? You…”

 

“ _Silencio._ ” Graves’ lips kept moving, but no sound came out, his voice stolen by her charm. Georgia could see the fury in his eyes as he tried to shake it off unsuccessfully, but she only smirked. “That’s better.” she said. “Stay here, I’m going to get something.” She stood and left without looking at him.

 

When she returned Graves was still sitting in the armchair, jaw tight with pain; he had evidently tried to get up and failed. “Are you going to let me talk or do I need to keep the charm up?” she asked lightly. Graves glared at her. Georgia decided to risk it.

 

She lifted the charm with a flick of her wrist. “Don’t you ever….” Graves began to say immediately, but Georgia interrupted him. “Shush.” she said. “If you keep being a jackass, I’ll do more than just take your voice away next time. Now shut up and listen.”

 

Graves still looked furious, but sufficiently cowed by the wand in her hand, so she continued. “As I was saying, you need to make the best of your current situation. But you don’t have to do it alone, regardless of that whole lone wolf thing you’ve got going on. So this is for you.”

 

She held out her hands. In them was an elegant walking stick, carved from gleaming black ebony, topped with a silver wampus head. Graves stared at it. “A cane?” he asked. “I don’t need…”

 

Georgia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need one. This isn’t just a cane, though. Take it.”

 

Apparently he still thought she might hex him again at any moment, because he took it with only a moment’s hesitation. As soon as his hands had closed around it, Georgia raised her wand. “ _Petrificus Totalus_!”

 

Graves flinched, trying to bring up his wand to block her spell, but before he could the hex bounced off an invisible wall in front of him, evaporating harmlessly. He stared down at the walking stick his hands. “It’s shield-charmed.” he said incredulously.

 

Georgia grinned. “Yeah. Strong enough to repel most jinxes and hexes. And that’s not all. Twist the head.” Graves did as she’d told him, and a foot-long blade snapped out of the end of the stick, glistening in the dim light. “It’s charmed to stay ever-sharp.” Georgia said. “Comes in useful against non-magical attacks.”

 

He was silent for a very long time, not looking at her. When he spoke, his voice was oddly flat. “Who did you steal this from?”

 

Georgia’s smile fell. She felt a familiar stab of pain and fought to keep her voice steady when she said: “I didn’t steal it. It was my father’s.”

 

Graves looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Your… your father’s?” he repeated, sounding oddly touched. “And you’re giving it to me?”

 

She shrugged, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. The way he was looking at her made her shiver again, and she had to force herself to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, well, you need it more than I do. Besides, you were a wampus at Ilvermorny, right?”

 

He nodded and Georgia straightened before he had the chance to say anything else. “Now, do you want to hear how it went with Credence?”

 

* * *

 

Over the following weeks, they settled into a strange routine.

 

They spent their days researching obscuri, attempting to figure out what Grindelwald was up to and working on Graves’ magic, which was the only thing that was making progress. Sometimes Georgia would disappear for client meetings, surveillance or to acquire some merchandise, and Graves never said anything about it; in return, she didn’t comment on the fact that he slept little, opting to forgo the dreamless sleep potion most nights and suffering from horrific nightmares.

 

Sometimes he would wake from these dreams himself, but most of the time Georgia woke him up and stayed until he calmed down somewhat. He always seemed okay during the day after that, but every night without fail the memories would come back to haunt him. Whenever his lack of sleep was most pronounced, Georgia also noticed slight tremors in his hands that grew worse the longer he stayed awake.

 

President Picquery, who seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that Graves didn’t particularly trust MACUSA anymore, sent owls periodically, updating them on their progress or rather lack thereof in their manhunt for Grindelwald. In one letter, she’d also written that Graves would be welcome back to his position at MACUSA once he was ready. He had been very silent after that letter had arrived, and Georgia didn’t quite know what he thought about the offer or if he even wanted to return.

 

She tried to talk to Credence again multiple times, but he hurried away every time he saw her, and he didn’t use the coin she’d given him either, so there was little more she could do.

 

They were sitting in her library one evening, both of them deep into a book, when Percival – somewhere along the line, she had begun thinking of him by his first name – spoke out of nowhere. “Can I ask you something?”

 

Georgia looked up. “Sure. Ask away.”

 

“Why do you do it?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Why do I do what?” “Steal stuff.”

 

There wasn’t a hint of judgment on his face, just honest curiosity. Georgia sighed deeply. Technically he was still the head of Magical Law Enforcement and she probably shouldn’t be talking to him about this at all, but she also trusted him so much by now that she didn’t think he’d use anything she said against her. Taking a deep breath, she began to speak.

 

“Honestly? Because I’m good at it, mostly. I like the thrill, I like outsmarting people. And the money doesn’t hurt either.” She smirked at him, but Percival didn’t smile back.

 

“Didn’t you ever want to do something else?” he asked carefully. “I mean, your family probably expected you to take over the business, right?”

 

Georgia felt the familiar tightness in her chest. He was right, of course. The Kingsleys weren’t a family quite like the Graves, who could trace their ancestry back to Gondolphus Graves, one of the very first aurors, but they had once been very well respected nonetheless. Her father had been skilled in his own right, her mother a capable healer, but the family’s wealth and prestige stemmed from her great-great-grandfather, who’d started Kingsley Potioneering over a century ago.

 

As her parents’ only child, she had been trained in Potions from a young age, groomed to take over the company one day. It wasn’t that she hadn’t liked it, but as the Thunderbird child of a Wampus father and Pukwudgie mother who liked charms much better than potions, she had always felt out of place, different. And then… well, then everything had fallen to pieces.

 

Georgia started speaking without having made a conscious decision. “They wanted me to, yeah. But I never felt it was the right fit for me. I considered applying for the auror program, actually, when I was in school. But I was never one to follow rules, really, so I abandoned that idea fairly quickly and just tingled around after school, doing whatever caught my interest. A lot of charm work, mostly. And then… then my parents died.”

 

She couldn’t look at Percival. It was hard enough not to cry like this; she thought seeing his face might tip her over the edge. “In Europe, right?” he asked softly.

 

Georgia nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. They were visiting friends in France and a no-maj bomb killed them all. I was twenty-four.” She swallowed, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. “I went to bring what was left of them home, and when I came back I thought, screw it, life is short, I might as well do what I’m good at, even if what I’m good at is breaking rules.”

 

They were both silent for a very long time as Georgia fought to regain her composure, blinking away tears. It was the heat that finally drew her out of her memories, pulsing through her body from the pocket of her pants. When she reached for it she found the mirror image of the coin she’d given to Credence, the thunderbird on the front glowing red.

 

“Shit.” she said. “Shit, Percival, it’s – it’s Credence.”

 

* * *

 

Percival followed her to the front door, leaning on the wampus walking stick she’d given to him. “Georgia, you can’t go on your own.” he said, for the third time in as many minutes. The way he said her name made her shiver for the briefest moment. “Grindelwald could be there; you don’t stand a chance against him, you…”

 

Georgia interrupted him, giving him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “I’m not going there to duel Grindelwald; I’m not stupid.” she said. “But I can’t leave Credence all on his own, not when he’s asking for my help. And we can’t exactly go to MACUSA, with all that information we’ve been withholding from them.”

 

Something in his face twitched. “I could come with you.” he said very quietly.

 

Georgia’s expression softened. “I appreciate that, I do.” she said. “But your magic still isn’t as strong as it was. You haven’t even tried apparating yet. You’d have no way to get away, if Grindelwald is really there.” _You’d be a distraction, because I would want to keep you safe more than Credence._ She didn’t say that thought aloud, of course.

 

Percival looked resigned. “Alright.” he said finally, though he didn’t look happy at all. “Just promise me you’ll come home again.”

 

For some reason, her heart missed several beats inside of her chest. On impulse she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I promise.” she said. Then, before she could do something she’d probably regret, she stepped out of the front door and disapparated.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Georgia found Credence in the ruins of the church that had been the headquarters of the New Salemers. The building looked as if it had been bombed, all cracked stone and blackened wood, and whispering no-majs were everywhere, looks of morbid curiosity on their faces. Georgia wove her way through them easily, hidden by a Disillusionment charm, and stepped into the destroyed church.

 

There were two bodies amongst the wreckage – one woman, her body in a grotesquely twisted position on the floor, her skin covered in black marks, and a girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty, lying under a fallen ceiling rafter with a broken neck. Georgia tasted bile in the back of her throat and forced it down, grabbing her wand tighter. She had no doubt that this had been the obscurus’ work.

 

Credence was crouched in a corner, his whole body shaking and covered in ashes and debris, but seeming miraculously unharmed. Georgia went to her knees in front of him.

 

“Credence.” she said, as softly and soothingly as she could. “Credence, honey, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Just tell me what happened here, yeah?”

 

For a moment he seemed like he hadn’t even heard her. Then his eyes found hers, wide and dark with fear. “It was me.” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I did this.”

 

That was when Georgia finally realized they had been wrong all along, and so had Grindelwald. Credence wasn’t close to the obscurus.

 

He was the obscurus.

 

* * *

 

Percival was pacing the hallway when she opened the front door, his cane thumping against the floor with every step. When he saw her his face lit up with relief, and Georgia thought that he looked devastatingly handsome when he smiled like this, a thought entirely inappropriate for the dire situation they were currently in.

 

“You’re okay.” he said, very softly, and before she knew what was happening she was in his arms.

 

Georgia was aware of how ridiculous that sounded, but for a second she couldn’t breathe as his body pressed against hers. He was so warm, his arm around her reassuringly solid, and she leant her head against his shoulder, allowing herself to pretend that they were the only two people in the world.

 

The hug didn’t last nearly as long as she wanted it to, because after a moment Percival spotted Credence behind her and pulled away. “Credence.” he said incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

 

The boy looked much too shaken to speak, so Georgia cut in, her voice as steady as she could make it with the hug still lingering on her skin. “He needs a place to stay, just for a while. This house has plenty of spare rooms, so I invited him to come here.” She gave Percival a look that she hoped communicated _we’ll talk later_ before she turned to Credence with a smile. “Are you hungry, honey?” she asked. “I can ask Tammy to prepare us a late-night dinner.”

 

Credence shook his head. “No.” he said, his voice still barely more than a hoarse whisper. “I just… I just want to go to sleep.”

 

Georgia kept her smile up, even as her heart ached for him. “Okay.” she said. “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

 

Percival was waiting for her in the library when she returned after having shown Credence to one of the guest rooms. He was pacing again, something that he did quite often when he was nervous or on edge, but he stopped when she entered. “What in Merlin’s name is going on?” he asked. “What happened?”

 

Georgia sighed and sank into one of the armchairs, rubbing her forehead. She was exhausted, her energy stretched thin, and all she wanted to do was sleep. “It’s him.” she said, her voice oddly muffled. “It’s Credence. He’s the obscurus.”

 

Percival stared at her, eyes wide with shock. “He… what?” he asked weakly.

 

She gave a dry, joyless laugh. “Nobody suspected.” she said. “Not us, not Grindelwald. Credence is way too old to have an obscurus inside of him. But he told me himself. He destroyed the church, killed his mother and sister. I saw the ruin.”

 

For a long time, there was no sound but the crackling of the fire as Percival slowly limped over to the other armchair and sat down. Finally, he spoke. “Why did you bring him here? He’s clearly dangerous, unstable.”

 

Georgia looked up. “Percival, he’s a scared kid.” she said. “He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, and on top of that Grindelwald is after him. I couldn’t just leave him there. We have to help him.”

 

Percival buried his head in his hands. “How are we supposed to do that?” he asked, the tension clearly visible in his shoulders. “We barely know anything about obscuri. There’s never been one who lived as long as Credence. There’s never been one who lived, period. Georgia, there is no way to help him.”

 

She slumped in her chair. Maybe he was right, she thought. Maybe she was clinging to baseless hopes because she saw a bit of the lost girl she’d been in Credence and desperately wanted to give him the help she would have wanted herself. Maybe there really was no way to help him.

 

Suddenly, a memory snapped back into her mind and Georgia straightened. “Wait.” she said. “Do you remember those rumors I told you about? The ones I heard from my client, about the obscurus in Sudan? He said there was a magizoologist involved – Scamander, I think. You know his brother, right?”

 

Percival nodded slowly, hesitatingly. “Theseus, yes.” he said. “I believe his name is Newton. But, Georgia, what…?”

 

She interrupted him. “Percival, if this Newton Scamander has really seen an obscurus before he already knows more about them than we do. Maybe he knows a way we could help Credence control his power. Could you reach him?”

 

He didn’t seem convinced, running one hand through his dark hair. “Probably, yeah, but don’t you think you’re grasping at straws? We don’t even know that Scamander guy, and…”

 

Once more, Georgia interrupted him. “Maybe I am.” she said. “But it’s the only thing I can think of. We have to try, don’t we?”

 

Percival looked at her for a moment, in that particular way of his that always made her feel strangely warm, but eventually he nodded. “Alright.” he said. “I’ll try and contact Newton Scamander.”

 

* * *

 

Newton Scamander arrived two days later. He had apparently already been in New York, though he remained suspiciously vague on the purpose of his visit. He was a tall, lanky man who looked perpetually awkward, but he was also the least threatening person Georgia had never met, so she hoped Credence would think the same thing.

 

Credence had spent most of the last two days in the guest room, eating little and talking less. He was wary of Percival and Tammy but seemed to have grown accustomed to Georgia’s presence, because he didn’t cower into a corner whenever she entered and even talked to her sometimes. He was clearly traumatized by what had happened – what he’d done – to his adoptive mother and sister, and Georgia felt helpless, unable to explain to him what was happening or to ease his pain.

 

Tammy made tea for them and they drank it in the sitting room while Georgia explained the events of the last few weeks to Scamander. Percival was silent and tense; his ordeal with Grindelwald had made him very suspicious of any strangers.

 

When she was done, Scamander said: “This is extraordinary. I have never heard of an obscurial that survived this long. And he appears to have some measure of control over the obscurus too.”

 

Georgia bit her lip, uncharacteristically nervous. “But do you think you can help him?” she asked

 

For the first time since he’d arrived, Scamander looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t know.” he said honestly. “I tried to help the little girl in Sudan and I couldn’t, but I still want to try. Credence still deserves help.”

 

Georgia almost smiled. She liked Scamander, she decided in that moment. “You should meet him, then.” she said.

 

Together they walked upstairs to Credence’s room, silent but for the steady thumping of Percival’s cane, but he hung back once they reached the door. Georgia knew that it was hard for him when Credence looked at him and saw only Grindelwald, but she didn’t know what to say to him in front of Scamander, so she only gave him a small smile before she stepped into the room.

 

Credence was sitting on the bed. He looked up when they entered but shrunk back once he spotted Scamander. “Credence, it’s okay.” Georgia said softly. “This is Mr. Scamander. Remember I told you he was coming? He’s here to help you.”

 

Scamander took a step forward. “Hello, Credence.” he said, in the tone of voice one might use to speak to a scared animal. “My name is Newt. I hear you’ve been having some trouble with your magic.”

 

For one endless second Credence simply stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. Then he nodded very slowly, and Scamander smiled. “I might be able to help with that.” he said. “Can you tell me when all this started?”

 

Georgia didn’t honestly expect him to answer, but maybe there was something about Scamander that made him feel safe, because Credence started to talk, slowly and haltingly at first, but more fluidly as he went on.

 

“I’ve always felt it inside of me.” he said. “But Ma… she said magic was bad, that everyone who had magic needed to die, so I… I tried to make it disappear. But I can’t control it any longer. It comes out when I’m angry, or scared, and it… it destroys everything.” He let out a dry, desperate sob. “Ma was right.” he whispered. “Magic is evil.”

 

Georgia knelt in front of him, carefully taking his hand. He didn’t flinch away, which was already progress. “No, honey, no.” she said. “Magic isn’t evil. You aren’t unnatural or evil for having it. It’s just that because you suppressed your magic for so long it’s now trying very hard to come to the surface. We just have to find a way for you to control it.”

 

Credence looked up, blinking away tears. “Is there a way?” he asked, a fragile sort of hope in his voice.

 

Scamander answered, for which Georgia was thankful, because she didn’t think she could trust her voice. “I don’t want to lie to you, Credence. We don’t know of for sure. But there are people we could talk to, people we could ask. I think it’s best for everyone if you come away with me, somewhere where you’ll be safe and we can work to find a way for you to control your magic.”

 

Georgia should have been surprised, but she wasn’t. A part of her immediately knew that Scamander was right. Credence wasn’t safe here, not with Grindelwald presumably still looking for him, and the obscurus inside of him could do way too much damage in a city like New York. He’d be safer somewhere where Grindelwald wouldn’t think to look, and there were people in Europe who might be able to help – people like Albus Dumbledore.

 

“Mr. Scamander is right, Credence.” she said softly. “You’re in too much danger here. The bad man I told you about, Grindelwald, he still wants to use you. You’ll be safer somewhere else.”

 

Credence didn’t say anything. He was shaking again, but his face seemed surprisingly composed. Scamander cleared his throat. “Will you come with me, Credence?” he asked.

 

The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Finally, Credence nodded. “Yes.” he said. “Yes, I will.”

 

Suddenly, Georgia couldn’t be inside the room any longer. Leaving Scamander alone with Credence, she hurried out into the hallway to where Percival was waiting. He must have seen her distress immediately, because his face morphed into an expression of worry. “Are you alright?” he asked. “What happened?”

 

She drew in a shaky breath. “Credence is going to go to Europe with Mr. Scamander.” she said. Her voice sounded oddly flat, not like her own.

 

Percival took a hesitant step towards her. “That’s probably a good thing, right?” he asked. “Grindelwald won’t look for him there. He’ll be safe to figure out a way to deal with the obscurus.”

 

“Yeah.” she said, rubbing her temples. “It’s just…” She looked up, her gaze meeting his. “Are we doing the right thing, Percival?” she asked, sounding terribly unsure and desperate.

 

He crossed the distance between them with a few steps and awkwardly wrapped the arm he wasn’t using to keep his balance around her shoulders. “We’re doing the best we can.” he said softly. “That can’t ever be wrong.”

 

Georgia let herself relax into his touch for a moment, leaning her head against his shoulder. “This is all such a mess.” she muttered. “Grindelwald, Credence… I don’t know how to handle all this.”

 

Percival snorted. “I bet you’re regretting saving me right about now.”

 

She looked up abruptly. He was only half-joking; she could tell. There was pain somewhere in his eyes, and a hint of insecurity too.

 

Georgia couldn’t stop herself. She took his hand, squeezed it gently. “Never.” she said.

 

* * *

 

With Credence gone and that part of their problems somewhat taken care of, they shifted their focus back to Percival’s magic. It was almost back to normal now, even though he still shied away from apparating and the dangers of splinching it carried, and his wandless magic wasn’t what it had been before – which still meant he could do more things without a wand than she had ever been able to.

 

They had taken to dueling each other in the library, and while Georgia had taken it easy on him in the beginning she now had to fight with everything she had, and even so he eventually disarmed or incapacitated her most times, seemingly anticipating her every move before she made it and barely hindered by the lessened mobility caused by his bad leg. It was that that finally made her realize what a formidable duelist he really was; she had never really seen him in action before.

 

His nightmare were growing less severe; he rarely called out in his sleep anymore and if she had to wake him up it usually took him only a few moments to find his bearings, and now that he slept more his tremors were mostly gone. The times he completely spaced out during the day, going rigid and tense as the memories washed over him, became less frequent too, and instead his dry humor shone through more and more, brilliant smiles that made her knees weak for a moment appearing every now and then.

 

It also turned out Percival was an excellent chess player. Georgia was decent but she hadn’t played in a while, and they spent whole evenings playing chess against each other until she could finally book a win. It was almost scary how easy living with him was, and how used she was quickly growing to his presence.

 

Almost four months had passed since she’d rescued him from Grindelwald when she came back from surveilling a potential target’s house in Philadelphia to find Percival waiting for her in the hallway, grinning broadly. Her heart, stupid thing, forgot to beat for a second.

 

“You look suspiciously happy.” she said. “What happened?”

 

His grin grew even broader. “I was at MACUSA today.” he said. Georgia gasped in surprise. “You were… did you _apparate_?” He nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes that she found strangely adorable, and she acted on impulse, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. He hugged her back with one arm.

 

“That’s amazing!” she said, voice muffled where she had her face pressed against his shoulder. “I told you your magic would be fine, didn’t I? You should listen to me more often.” He chuckled. “Maybe I should.” he said somewhere above her.

 

Georgia pulled away eventually, though she would’ve liked to stay in that embrace forever. “What did you do at MACUSA?” she asked.

 

Percival’s smile faltered, for just the fraction of a second, but she saw it nonetheless. Her heart sank, her stomach lurching unpleasantly. “I talked to Seraphina.” he said slowly, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “About my job. I’m going to return to work, Georgia.”

 

“Oh.” she said. Her voice was too high, too sweet. “Oh. That’s… that’s great.” She forced herself to smile. “That’s really great, Percival.” And it was, wasn’t it? It was what he wanted, and she wanted him happy.

 

But there was that voice in her head, whispering that once he went back to work they’d be on opposite sides again; there’d be no more late-night chess matches, no more hugs that made her whole body tingle, no more banter that made her feel more alive than she had in a while. She silenced that voice as forcefully as she could. Whatever she might dream about sometimes had no future, none at all.

 

Percival gave her a careful smile. “I’m also going to move into a new apartment.” he said. “You’ve been… you’ve done so much for me, but I really can’t intrude on your hospitality any longer. I’m going to put the Fidelius charm on my new place and there’ve been rumors of Grindelwald being spotted on the European mainland lately, so it should be safe.”

 

Georgia suddenly felt like she was falling, with no end in sight. She knew this had always been nothing but a temporary thing while he’d been recovering, knew this had never been supposed to be permanent. But if she knew all that, why did the house feel too empty already?

 

“I’m happy for you, Percival.” she said softly, even though all she wanted to do was cry.


	5. Chapter 5

He left the next day, letting her in on the new Fidelius charm on his apartment before he disapparated. “You’re always welcome.” he said. Georgia smiled and hugged him goodbye and bit her tongue to keep from crying as she watched him leave. The next time she’d see him, she knew, would likely be in an interrogation room, and by then she would have to get rid of any feelings she might have had for him.

 

When he was gone, she straightened and went to work.

 

Usually, she only took on a job every few months, because it took a lot of planning and surveillance to pull off a successful heist, even with her skills, but now she took everything she could get. Working kept her mind off of Credence and Grindelwald and most of all Percival, who by now must have been deeply in his role as head of the DMLE again.

 

Georgia wondered if he still had nightmares. She wondered if he thought of her sometimes. She wondered when she’d become such a lovesick and insecure little fool.

 

It was that insecurity, and the fact that her thoughts kept circling to Percival at the most inopportune of moments, that led to the job going horribly, terribly wrong.

 

Well, maybe not completely wrong, because she got the priceless spellbook she’d come for. But on her way out she also got a few deep slashes in her side from a warding spell she’d missed, and they were oozing blood at an alarming rate.

 

“Shit.” she cursed under her breath as she waved her wand to vanish the droplets of blood she’d left on the carpet. “Oh, Merlin, fuck.” From what she could tell the slashing hex hadn’t been linked to any sort of alarm system, but she couldn’t be sure; better to be safe than sorry. She tapped the book once with her wand to send it on to her house and then made her way down the fire escape at the side of the building.

 

The blood loss was already making itself noticeable by the time Georgia reached the street. She felt lightheaded, dizzy, and her shirt was soaked with scarlet; apparating was definitely out of the question with the way her world was spinning. She cursed again, and then remembered what Percival had told her. _You’re always welcome._

 

His apartment was only a few blocks from here, and she really had no other option, not with the desolate condition she was in right now. Pressing one hand to her side in an effort to at least slow the bleeding somewhat, she began to walk down the deserted street.

 

By the time Georgia arrived at his building, she was very close to passing out. The front door opened to a whispered “ _Alohomora_ ” _,_ thankfully, and she rode the elevator up to the penthouse, her blood dripping to the floor. She made her way down the hallway on pure power of will and finally knocked on his door. _Please be home,_ she thought. _Please just be home._

 

For a long moment there was only silence, then she heard the thumping of steps, and eventually a familiar voice, sharp and suspicious. “Who is this?”

 

Georgia’s knees almost buckled in relief. “It’s me.” she said, her voice choked. “Georgia. I need your help.”

 

The door flew open to reveal Percival, evidently already dressed for bed, his eyes widening with shock when he saw her blood-soaked clothes, and the way she was swaying on her feet. “Merlin, Georgia, what happened?” he asked.

 

Georgia wanted to answer, but that was the exact moment her sense of balance chose to go completely out of the window. She stumbled forward and Percival barely caught her, hissing in pain as he inadvertently put weight on his bad leg. “Easy there.” he said, the worry in his voice hard to miss even in her currently very dim state of awareness. “Let’s get you inside and patch you up, okay?”

 

Percival half-carried her to the living room and maneuvered her to the one of the sofas. “Stay here.” he said. Georgia would’ve asked him where else he could possibly think she was going to go, if speaking hadn’t seemed like too much of an effort.

 

He was gone one second and back the next, holding an assortment of potions, though that probably owed to the blood loss messing with her time perception. He waved his wand over her side, muttering something under his breath, but Georgia didn’t notice any sort of change. “My healing spells aren’t working; I’m going to have to use essence of Dittany on these cuts.” he said a moment later. “I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.” He cut away what remained of her shirt with a flick of his wand, and a second later her side erupted in burning pain.

 

Georgia whimpered, curling her fingers into the sofa beneath her. A hand closed around hers, warm and pleasantly rough. “I know it hurts.” Percival said softly. “You’re doing great. It’ll be over soon, I promise.” He put something to her lips. “Drink that and you’ll feel better.” he said.

 

She swallowed, the familiar bitter taste of a blood replenishing potion sliding down her throat, followed by what she suspected was a pain potion. As they began to take effect Percival dressed her wounds with expert movements, and if she hadn’t been so out of it his touch against her bare skin would probably have made her heart race.

 

Georgia’s awareness cleared somewhat as the throbbing pain in her side eased. “I’m really sorry about this.” she said hoarsely. “I bled all over your sofa, and your elevator, and…”

 

He interrupted her, smiling. “It’s quite alright.” he said. “I bled all over your house too, remember? Just for the next time you come visit, I’d prefer it if you weren’t on the verge of bleeding to death.”

 

“Believe it or not, me too.” she said, her words slightly slurred. She felt exhausted, drowsy, but almost pleasantly so.

 

Percival patted her shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.” he said. “You should really get some sleep before you get back to whatever reckless shit you’ve been up to.”

 

Georgia couldn’t find the energy for a witty reply. She remembered following Percival down another hallway, holding on to his shoulder for balance, remembered falling into a soft, large bed, and then she didn’t remember much at all.

 

* * *

 

Georgia awoke in an unfamiliar bed, and it took her a moment to remember what had happened. The dull throbbing in her side was an effective enough reminder, and she groaned. She muttered a few very undignified curses into the pillow before she turned onto her back and sat up with another groan.

 

Blushing slightly, she noticed that she was only wearing her underwear, most of her torso wrapped tightly in white bandages. There was, however, a grey shirt that she assumed was Percival’s folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and Georgia put it on with stiff movements, hissing in pain every time she moved too quickly. It smelled like him, and she felt the embarrassing urge to bury her face into the soft fabric.

 

The blood replenishing potion seemed to have done its work already, because the ground only shifted the slightest bit when she got to her feet. Still, all Georgia really wanted was to go back to sleep, but she couldn’t stay in here forever, so she opened the door and went in search of Percival.

 

He was sitting at the kitchen counter, evidently already dressed for work in a three-piece suit and a long dark coat, and Georgia thought no one had any business looking this ridiculously handsome. He looked up when he heard her enter, and gave her a smile that made the early morning sun shining in through the large windows seem dim in comparison.

 

“Good morning.” he said. “You look much better.”

 

Georgia shrugged, trying not to let him see how the way he was still smiling at her made her knees feel pathetically wobbly. “I feel better, too.” she said. “Thanks for, you know, not letting me bleed to death.”

 

“Anytime.” he said dryly, but then his smile fell abruptly. “Seriously, though, please be careful.” he said, worry marking his features. “You got here in time yesterday, but you might not be so lucky next time. I’m not going ask you to stop whatever it is you’re doing, but I don’t want to be called out because someone found your body, Georgia.” He seemed genuinely horrified at the prospect of that happening, and for a moment Georgia’s throat felt too tight.

 

“I promise I’ll be careful.” she said, keeping her voice as light as possible. “It was stupid, really. I was just… distracted.”

 

The sentence slipped out before she could stop it. Percival raised his eyebrows as if he wanted to ask what had distracted her, but after a moment he simply pointed to the coffee pot. “Do you want some?” he asked. Georgia almost moaned in pleasure. “Merlin, yes, please.”

 

They drank their coffee in companionable silence, at least until Percival cleared his throat. “I have to go to work.” he said. “You can stay here, if you want…”

 

Georgia interrupted him, standing a bit too quickly; she had to hold on to the counter to keep her balance and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “No, it’s fine.” she said. “I think I’m good to apparate again; I’ll just go home. I have some things I need to take care of anyway.” That was only half a lie; she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to apparate, but she really did need to contact the woman who’d paid her to steal the spellbook in the first place.

 

“I can side-along you.” Percival offered. “You shouldn’t risk splinching yourself on top of those cuts.”

 

“It’s okay, really.” she assured him. “Go to work, do your director-thing. I’ll be fine.”

 

He gave her an odd, long glance that made her feel as if he could see right through her lies to what she was really thinking, but in the end he only nodded. “Alright.” he said. “Send me a patronus once you’re home safe though, okay?”

 

The obvious display of worry for her made her shiver again, and she nodded. “I… I will.” she said. “Be safe at work.”

 

His lips twitched. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked dryly. “Being captured by the most dangerous dark wizard of all time? I already did that.”

 

Georgia laughed out loud for the first time in a while.

 

* * *

 

She did manage to apparate home without splinching herself, though she staggered dangerously as she landed in her hallway. Tammy came hurrying up from the kitchen, looking worried. “Are you alright, Miss Georgia?” she squeaked. “Where have you been?”

 

Georgia made a dismissive gesture. “I’m fine, Tammy.” she said. “Got into a bit of trouble, but I’m okay now. I really just want to take a nap.”

 

The house-elf didn’t seem convinced, but she nodded. “Of course, Miss Georgia.” she said. “I’ll have some food ready once you wake up.” She disappeared without another word, even though Tammy was usually very vocal about her opinions, for a house-elf.

 

Georgia trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, where she decided to indulge herself for once and leave Percival’s shirt on. His scent had something strangely calming about it, and she needed a bit of calm now. Waving her wand tiredly, she muttered: “ _Expecto patronum_.”

 

Her silver lioness appeared – pale and flickering and probably not nearly strong enough to fight off a dementor, but it would do for a message. “Go to Percival.” she said. “Tell him I’m home and very much still not bleeding to death.” The patronus silently slipped out through the window, presumably heading for MACUSA.

 

Georgia chugged another pain potion from her own stores and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

 

It was mid-afternoon by the time she woke up, and heavy rain was rattling against her window. As promised, Tammy had a full meal ready downstairs and Georgia ate ravenously before she went to the library to take a look at the spellbook she’d almost given her life for yesterday.

 

It was full of fascinating and powerful enchantments and incantations, enough so that Georgia considered not giving it to the buyer after all. She decided against that, however, if only to preserve her reputation, and instead resolved to commit the parts that seemed the most useful to memory. That task kept her busy for the rest of the day, and she only stopped when her doorbell rang at twenty minutes to midnight.

 

Georgia’s forehead furrowed and she reached for her wand on instinct. The only people who were in on her Fidelius charm besides herself were Scamander, Credence and Percival, and only one of those people was even in New York at the moment. Wand still clutched tightly, she went downstairs, the pattering of the rain still overwhelmingly loud, and opened the door.

 

It was Percival, soaked to the bone, dark hair sticking to his head and rivulets of water running down into the collar of his coat. The sight of him was enough to make Georgia’s breath catch in her throat. “Percival.” she said. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

 

He didn’t even bother with a greeting. “I need to show you something.” he said hoarsely.

 

Georgia didn’t have time to answer. He raised his wand and said: “ _Expecto patronum_.” Silver mist erupted from the tip of his wand, slowly solidifying into the shape of an animal, strutting a few steps before it evaporated again. The rain made everything seem slightly blurry, but Georgia saw his patronus clearly enough. It was a lion.

 

Time seemed to slow to a standstill. “Oh.” Georgia said, rather stupidly.

 

Percival took a step forward, so close now she could smell the firewhiskey on his breath. “Are you drunk?” she asked, because it was much easier to think about such trivial things than about the huge, shocking revelation he had just made.

 

He shrugged awkwardly. “I had a few drinks.” he admitted. “Liquid courage, you know.”

 

Georgia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away. “What do you need courage for?” she whispered.

 

“Well.” he said, looking more nervous than she had ever seen him. “This, I suppose.”

 

He kissed her.

 

Georgia had had good kisses before. She’d even had great kisses. She had never, however, had a kiss quite like this one.

 

The very space between them exploded. Her heart kept missing beats and her hands couldn’t bring him close enough to her. The world was spinning and she could hardly breathe, could hardly even think, and yet things had never felt so in place, so _right._ He tasted like rain and firewhiskey and Percival _,_ and Georgia had the sudden irrational thought that if someone were to hurl a killing curse at her right now, she’d die happy.

 

When Percival finally pulled away, she didn’t open her eyes. She could feel his hands on her waist, his soft hair between her fingers, his warm breath still lingering on her lips, and it was too much, all too much. She was afraid that if she looked at his face she’d shatter from the sheer emotion of it.

 

“Georgia.” he said, voice barely more than a whisper. “Georgia, please say something.”

 

She opened her eyes, and – _oh._ She’d thought that this sort of thing only happened to the heroines in hopelessly clichéd romance novels, but her knees quite literally buckled under the weight of his gaze, and she was thankful for his arms around her keeping her upright. Percival didn’t seem steady on his feet either; his cane had clattered to the ground, carelessly discarded.

 

Georgia found her voice with a few seconds delay. “Took you long enough.” she said hoarsely.

 

Percival laughed, the kind of laughter that came from weeks of tension suddenly released. He looked years younger when he laughed like this, more carefree than she’d ever seen him even before Grindelwald, and so devastatingly handsome that she felt her stomach drop. “I would’ve kissed you way sooner, if you’d told me that you wanted me to.” he said.

 

“I didn’t think you’d want to.” she said quietly.

 

His expression softened, melting into a smile. “And here I thought you were the most perceptive person I’ve ever met.” he said. “Kissing you is all I’ve been wanting to do for weeks. It was a little pathetic, really.”

 

Georgia felt faintly like she might be about to burst. She blinked once, twice, and only then did she notice that she was soaked now too, half from the rain pouring down on both of them and half from Percival’s body pressed against hers. “We should probably go inside.” she said sheepishly.

 

He nodded, a look on his face as if he’d only just noticed the rain. “Yeah, we probably should.” he said.

 

He kissed her again as soon as they were inside, trapping her between the wall and his body. Georgia gasped into his mouth and pressed as close to him as she possibly could, every inch of her skin buzzing with his touch. Eventually he abandoned her mouth, instead trailing a line of kisses down her neck, and she shivered from head to toe.

 

Her hands found the collar of his coat and she tugged at it impatiently until he shrugged it off without ever breaking contact. There were still way too much clothes between them for her taste, though, so Georgia began opening the buttons of his waistcoat, even as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin on her neck and heat pooled in her stomach.

 

Percival grabbed his shirt she was still wearing and pulled. A few buttons tore off and clattered to the ground but neither of them cared; the shirt fell away and left her standing in front of him in nothing but her underwear and the bandages that were still wrapped around her torso.

 

He stopped kissing her to gently brush the bandages with his fingers. “Does it still hurt?” he asked. Georgia shook her head, breathless and flushed. “Not much.” she said, and it really didn’t, especially when she was high on his touch. “Less talking, more kissing.”

 

Percival gave a low chuckle and obeyed, claiming her mouth in a hard, take-no-prisoners kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back so forcefully that he stumbled backwards, hissing in pain when he put weight on his bad leg.

 

He had to reach out one arm to steady himself against the wall, and Georgia pulled away abruptly. “I’m sorry.” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

 

He nodded, a bitter expression flickering over his face for a moment. “Yeah – fine, I’m fine.” he said. “Damned leg, I…”

 

Georgia interrupted him, brushing her hand along his tense jawline. “Let’s go upstairs.” she whispered. “My bed is much more comfortable than the hallway. Besides, we’re probably giving Tammy quite the show.” He smiled. “Let’s.” he repeated softly.

 

They left a trail of clothes on their way to the bedroom, not being able to resist kissing or touching each other every few steps. By the time Georgia dropped down onto the bed and Percival climbed on top of her they were both fully naked, and her insides were thrumming with a desperate desire. “I want you.” she said forcefully. “Now.”

 

He didn’t hesitate. Georgia gasped as he slid in and filled her out, every nerve in her body firing wildly. “You okay?” Percival asked hoarsely, rigid and tense on top of her.

 

She wiggled slightly underneath him, gasping again at the friction. “I will be once you start moving.” she said.

 

Again, he complied and started moving, slowly at first but soon picking up speed and finding a steady rhythm. Georgia felt her pleasure building with every one of his thrusts, threatening to pull her under, and then he braced all his weight on one arm, finding her breast with his other hand, and it was enough to tip her over.

 

She shattered with the force of her orgasm, her back arching of the mattress as she cried out. Percival gave two more stuttering thrusts before she felt him shudder and go limp on top of her, trembling with his own climax as she rode out the waves of hers.

 

He rolled off of her eventually, just as he was beginning to get a little heavy. They shared a few languid, open-mouthed kisses and Georgia smiled into his mouth. “That wasn’t half-bad, old man.” she whispered.

 

Percival fixed her with a glare that didn’t quite meet his usual level of intimidation. “I really don’t know why you keep calling me that.” he said. “I’m not actually that much older than you.”

 

He was right, of course; they had eight years between them, which wasn’t nothing but also not overly much. Georgia smirked at him. “Mostly to annoy you.” she admitted. “You’re adorable when you’re annoyed.”

 

He gave a very undignified snort of amusement. “No one’s ever called me adorable.”

 

Georgia laughed. “They should.” she assured him. “You get this crease between your eyebrows and your lips starts to twitch. A bit like a bunny, actually.”

 

Percival shot her a sideways glance. “If you were anyone else, I’d probably curse you for that.” he said dryly.

 

She smiled. “Yeah, but I’m not, so you’re gonna kiss me for that, right?”

 

He gave a long-suffering sigh that lost all its bite to the soft smile on his face and obliged, kissing her slowly and gently, without the urgency of their previous kisses. Georgia felt something pleasantly warm curl behind her breastbone, making her feel full and safe and content.

 

“Are you staying?” she asked when he pulled away. His smile faltered a little. “Do you want me to?”

 

Georgia reached out and kissed him again, a short sweet peck on the lips. “If I ever say no to that question, I’ve probably been imperiused.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter this time. I would really love some feedback!

_What an unfairly realistic dream,_ Georgia thought when she woke up. It had almost felt like it had really happened – Percival showing up at her door, their matching patronuses, him kissing her in the rain, his hands on her bare skin…

 

… there was an arm wrapped around her.

 

Oh. _Oh._ Georgia’s breath caught in her throat. She opened her eyes slowly, as if moving too quickly might make it all slip away again.

 

Percival Graves was asleep next to her, her head resting on his bare shoulder. His dark hair was tousled, his face relaxed in sleep and his mouth slightly curled into a half-smile. Georgia felt her chest swell with an overwhelming rush of affection.

 

Absentmindedly, she began trailing the scars crisscrossing his torso with her finger. They looked much better than when she’d patched them up months ago, most of them barely more than faint silvery lines, though there were some larger ones where the skin was raised and uneven.

 

“Not pretty, I know.”

 

Georgia looked up to see that Percival was awake, looking at her from hooded eyes. His voice was sleep-roughened but sounded resigned, as if he’d arranged himself with the fact that no one could find his scars attractive. “I like them.” she said.

 

He looked surprised, skeptical, so she quickly elaborated. “I think they show how much you survived. How strong you are. And besides, they make you look tough. I have a thing for men with scars.”

 

His lips twitched towards a smile. “You do, huh? Then I suppose I should be glad I have them.”

 

Georgia sat up and gave him a mischievous grin. “You should.” she said. “Otherwise, I might not be tempted to do this.” She leant down and kissed him, and neither of them spoke for a while after that.

 

It was slow and soft and gentle this time, not as full of pent-up desperate longing as it had been the night before, and by the time it was over the sun was fully up, shining in through the window. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Georgia mumbled into the crook of his neck.

 

Percival kissed the top of her head. “That was worth being a little late.” he said. “And I still need to ask you something.”

 

She shifted a little so she could look at him. “Oh? Ask away, then.”

 

He ran one hand through his hair, suddenly looking nervous again and not quite meeting her eyes. It made her want to kiss him once more, but she fought the urge down, at least for the time being. “The annual MACUSA spring gala is next Saturday.” he said. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

 

Georgia grinned. “As your date, you mean?”

 

Percival smiled a little sheepishly. “Yeah. As my date.”

 

She kissed him before she replied, no longer able to resist. When she pulled away, she said: “I’d love to. But won’t people disapprove of the head of the DMLE bringing a suspected criminal to the gala?”

 

He shrugged. “Probably.” he admitted. “But Seraphina pretty much lets me do whatever I want these days. She still feels bad about not noticing I had been replaced; I just have to mention it offhandedly and she’ll drop any objections she might have.”

 

Georgia laughed. “I’m glad to see you’re getting some good out of that situation.” she said, and let him pull her down into another kiss.

 

“It’s a date.” she whispered against his lips.

 

* * *

 

Georgia spent the next few days feeling vaguely like she was floating. Everything seemed softer, colors were brighter, and she probably would have hated how corny that sounded if she hadn’t been so ridiculously happy.

 

Percival had to work through the weekend and late most nights, so she didn’t see him for a few days, but on Wednesday evening he showed up at her front door, looking worn and exhausted. “Hey.” she said softly as soon as she’d opened the door for him. “You okay?”

 

He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, it’s just been a long day.” he said. “I didn’t particularly feel like being alone.”

 

Georgia smiled and got on her tiptoes to kiss him, a quick peck that got a little out of hand when he pulled her closer with one arm and angled his head to deepen the kiss. “Come on in, then.” she said when they finally pulled apart, slightly flushed and out of breath.

 

They settled in the sitting room and Georgia poured them both a glass of firewhiskey. Percival drank deeply, almost emptying his glass in one gulp. She shot him a sideways glance. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. He certainly didn’t seem alright; his jaw was tense and his hands were trembling ever so slightly.

 

He let out a shaky breath, leaning back his head and closing his eyes for a moment. Finally he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Grindelwald murdered a family in Germany today.” Georgia’s breath caught in her throat, but Percival continued before she had the chance to answer. “There were two children, three and seven years old. The mother was Frieda Albrecht, a well-known researcher into primal magical forces.”

 

Georgia’s chest tightened with the realization of what that meant. “He’s trying to find out more about obscuri.” she said quietly.

 

Percival nodded and she bit her lip, hesitating before she asked: “Do you think he knows Credence is in Europe?”

 

He was silent for a moment, then he shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so.” he said. “Albrecht was working on harnessing and using naturally occurring magical forces. Maybe he’s trying to create his own sort of obscurus, now that he lost Credence.”

 

Georgia shuddered at the thought of Grindelwald managing to bend the most primal forms of magic to his will, but she pushed it aside as resolutely as she could. She could only imagine what kind of memories seeing Grindelwald’s violence brought up for Percival; no wonder he looked so spent.

 

She scooted closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. There weren’t any words, nothing she could say that would change anything, so she only sat next to him, weaving her fingers through his until he relaxed a bit, some of the tension vanishing from his body. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked after a while. “There are some leftovers from the dinner Tammy made.”

 

Percival gave a low chuckle. “What is it with you and trying to get me to eat?” he asked.

 

Georgia glared at him. “Well, you never do seem to remember to eat yourself.” she said. “So have you eaten or not?”

 

He ran one hand through his hair. “No.” he admitted.

 

She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “See? You’d be lost without me.”

 

For a moment, he looked at her as if she was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. “I would.” he agreed solemnly. Georgia shivered and couldn’t stop herself from kissing him.

 

“You’re an idiot.” she whispered against his lips. “Now come on, let’s get some food into you.”

 

* * *

 

Georgia fell asleep with Percival’s arm wrapped around her, and woke in the middle of the night to find that he was no longer next to her. Panic washed over her and she blinked into the darkness, hand already feeling for her wand, until she realized he was sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to her. She sat up slowly, stifling a yawn, and crawled over to him. He was shaking, his shoulders rock-hard with tension, and he flinched violently when she touched him.

 

“It’s okay, it’s just me.” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Nightmare, huh?”

 

He nodded, his jaw clenched tight. Georgia placed a quick kiss on his neck. “You’re safe here.” she said very softly. “He can’t get to you, I promise.”

 

From one moment to the next, all the tension vanished from his body and he collapsed against her. Georgia pulled him closer and back onto the bed until he was half on top of her, his head buried somewhere against her shoulder, and then she simply held him, running one hand through his soft black hair. She could still feel him shaking, and something deep in her chest ached for him.

 

Percival began to speak out of nowhere, his voice muffled against the crook of her neck. “He’d heal me sometimes, you know.” he said. “I had a collapsed lung once, something that was probably a brain bleed, and sometimes it was just plain blood loss. He didn’t want me to die of something so mundane, I suppose. But he’d make me beg for it first.”

 

He sounded oddly calm, but Georgia could hear the barely hidden pain, the hold the memories still had on him. He’d never spoken to her about the exact things Grindelwald had done to him, not once in all the months he’d lived here, and she almost didn’t dare to breathe, afraid of making him close up again.

 

“He… he’d offer healing as a reward too.” he said. “Tell me something about the boy and I’ll fix your ribs. Lower your occlumency shields for just a second and I’ll stop the bleeding. Do what I say and I’ll set the bone.” He shuddered noticeably, his hand twitching where it was resting on her arm. “I gave in sometimes.” he muttered in a hoarse whisper. “I tried to not give him anything of importance, but I just… I just wanted the pain to stop, and I… I…”

 

His voice cracked, and Georgia could feel something wet against her neck. Percival was crying.

 

Scorching hot anger burned its way through her veins, making her blood boil. She wasn’t normally a very violent person, and unforgivables took a lot of sheer brutality behind them, but she was sure that if she had come face to face with Grindelwald in that moment, she could have performed the Cruciatus curse to perfection.

 

She wrapped her arms around him even tighter as if she could shield him from the horrifying memories. “You did so well, Percival.” she whispered into his hair. “You survived. Grindelwald didn’t break you. It doesn’t matter what you did to stay sane. _He didn’t break you._ ”

 

He let out an audibly shaky breath, and then he sat up abruptly. His hair was a mess and there were tear tracks on his cheeks, but his eyes were bright when he looked at her. “He came close, though.” he said. “I wanted to give up. I was going to give up. And then you showed up and got me out. You saved my life, Georgia. I would’ve died in there if it hadn’t been for you.”

 

 _Merlin,_ Georgia thought, _I’m in love with him._

The words were right there at the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t say them out loud. She had never said them to anyone before, not to any of the men who had disappeared from her life as quickly as they had come, and the magnitude of her feelings for Percival scared her. She needed more time, time to stomach the realization she’d just had, time to fathom the implications of her feelings for him.

 

So she kissed him instead, which was almost as good. “I’m glad I did.” she said. “My life would be very bleak without you.”

 

Percival almost smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday came quickly, and with it the gala. Georgia spent an unreasonable amount of time getting ready and charming her chin-length blond hair into flawless finger waves, and she was still putting the finishing touches to her make-up when her doorbell rang. She took a last look at herself in the mirror, pushing aside any childish sort of nervousness, and went downstairs.

 

Percival looked strikingly handsome in his tailored three-piece suit, even more so when he looked at her and his eyes lit up. “Wow.” he said softly, his gaze trailing down her sequined white and silver dress. “You look beautiful.”

 

Georgia smiled, feeling herself blush slightly as if she was some inexperienced girl. “You don’t look too bad yourself, old man.” she said.

 

He chuckled and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

 

She grinned and took it without hesitation. “We absolutely shall.”

 

Usually one could not apparate into MACUSA headquarters, but for the gala several apparition points had been established to prevent no-majs from being suspicious of countless wizards and witches in evening attire streaming into the Woolworth building. Percival apparated them both to one on basement level and they handed their coats to a harried-looking house-elf before they headed upstairs to the lobby.

 

“Wow.” Georgia said, her breath catching in her throat. She had been in the MACUSA building countless times before, but she had never seen it look quite so beautiful. Twinkling fairy lights were floating everywhere, silver and gold roses had been woven around columns and railings and waiters with trays of drinks and small appetizers were darting through the crowd. An orchestra was playing below the giant portrait of President Picquery, and some couples were already dancing.

 

“They do go all out for this gala every year.” Percival said next to her. He was smiling, but he seemed a little tense; Georgia knew that crowds like this made him feel nervous and on edge after his ordeal with Grindelwald. She squeezed his arm. “Come on.” she said in an attempt to distract him. “Let’s get something to drink.”

 

Georgia was acutely aware of people staring at them as they made their way through the crowd, some of them whispering to each other. Most of them probably didn’t know who she was and were only interested in who notoriously private Percival Graves had brought as his date, but a select few no doubt realized the head of the DMLE had brought a suspected thief to the MACUSA gala. Georgia kept her head high and a smile on her lips.

 

They were both sipping on their drinks – firewhiskey in Percival’s case, champagne for her – when suddenly a voice next to them said: “Oh, hello, Director Graves!”

 

Two women had appeared next to them, one with short brown hair and one with bouncing blond curls. Georgia saw Percival’s face turn smoothly into the stoic mask that belonged to Director Graves, esteemed MACUSA department head. “Good evening, Auror Goldstein.” he said. “And to you too, Miss Goldstein.”

 

He looked at Georgia. “Georgia, this is Tina Goldstein, one of my aurors, and her sister – Queenie, isn’t it?” The blonde nodded, and Georgia gave both women a smile. Percival had mentioned Tina Goldstein before, had spoken of her promise and talent, and Georgia knew that he was fond of her – which was why it puzzled her a bit that the woman looked slightly nervous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” she said politely. “I’m Georgia Kingsley.”

 

Tina Goldstein’s eyes narrowed; as an auror, she no doubt knew the name. A hint of surprise flashed over her sister’s face only a second later. Queenie Goldstein’s expression didn’t contain any distrust, though, unlike Tina’s. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Kingsley.” she said. “Have you tried the appetizers yet? They’re all simply delicious, especially the shrimp cocktails.”

 

Georgia smiled. “Not yet, unfortunately, though I have to admit I’m starving.” She turned to look at Percival. “What do you think?” she asked. “Shall we go find some appetizers? I fear the champagne will go straight to my head otherwise.”

 

His lips twitched. “While that would be entertaining, we should probably try to avoid it.” he said, before he looked at the Goldstein sisters again. “You heard her; we need to go in search of some food. Have a lovely evening, you two.”

 

After they had taken their leave from the sisters, Georgia stepped a little closer to Percival. “Why did Tina seem like she thought you were about to jump down her throat any moment?” she asked.

 

A sort of exasperated amusement flickered over his face and he ran his free hand through his hair. “Ah.” he said. “That’s… well, she reported me to Seraphina last week.”

 

Georgia’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Why?”

 

He gave her an odd, sideways glance. “She, uh… she thought I might be an imposter again. Apparently I seemed… too happy.”

 

She couldn’t help it; she began laughing. “Too… too happy, seriously? Are you that grumpy normally?”

 

Percival snorted. “I’m not grumpy.” he insisted. “I just take my job seriously. But I admit I was in an unusually good mood that morning.” He leant over to her, so close his warm breath brushed against her skin, and whispered into her ear: “I’d had great sex just before.”

 

Georgia shivered, something flickering inside her belly. She had half a mind to convince Percival to sneak away to his office for some generally not gala-appropriate activities, but before she could say anything a small, bald man in a too-tight suit approached them, sweat beading his forehead. “Ah, Director Graves!” he said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I know we’re not supposed to work tonight, but would your lovely companion mind terribly if I stole you away for just a moment?”

 

Percival looked anything but thrilled, but Georgia flashed him a quick smile, squeezing his arm. “It’s quite alright.” she said. “I’ll be fine on my own; I’ll just go look for those shrimp cocktails Miss Goldstein mentioned. Find me when you’re done, yeah?”

 

His face softened slightly. “I will.” he said. “This won’t take long, I promise.” He followed the bald man out of the crowd with a tight, forced smile.

 

Georgia was just eating her second shrimp cocktail – Queenie Goldstein had been right; they were really very good – when someone spoke right next to her. “Hello, Miss Kingsley.”

 

She turned and came face to face with none other than Seraphina Picquery herself. The woman looked magnificent in her velvet purple dress robes and an ornate, towering headdress, every inch the regal, imposing president of wizarding America. Georgia straightened unconsciously, meeting her gaze.

 

“Hello, Madam President.” she said.

 

“You’re here with Percival, I assume?” It was said lightly, almost nonchalantly, but there was something in Picquery’s gaze Georgia could not quite read. It frustrated her; usually she was very good at figuring out what people were thinking.

 

“I am.” she said. “He had to take care of something.”

 

The president’s mouth twitched. Georgia wondered if that was self-satisfaction on her face. “Ah, yes.” said Picquery. “My doing, I am afraid. I wanted to talk to you alone. Percival gets terribly protective whenever it comes to you.”

 

Georgia wasn’t easily surprised, but this took her aback. She stared at Picquery, trying very hard to keep from gaping. “You… wanted to talk to me?” she asked finally.

 

Picquery smiled. “Indeed.” she said. “I expected you to be at the gala, so I figured this is as good a time as any. I want to offer you a job, Miss Kingsley.”

 

Georgia blinked once, twice. “A job?” she repeated after a moment, hating how dull she sounded.

 

The president nodded. “Yes.” she said. “My head of Clandestine Services is retiring. And to be honest, his department has been rather ineffectual for years. But from what I’ve seen of your… work, for lack of a better word, you are quite adept at clandestine activities. I would like you to consider using your talents for MACUSA instead of for your own gain.”

 

Inside Georgia’s head, the thoughts were running wildly. She quieted them down with some effort and cleared her throat. “So, let me get this straight.” she said. “You want to hire me, a suspected criminal who’s been arrested on grand larceny and trespassing charges multiple times, in a government position? Won’t your voters disapprove?”

 

Picquery shrugged. She was enjoying this, Georgia realized. Somehow, it made her like the woman a bit more. “They probably would.” she admitted. “But the head of Clandestine Services is not a public position. And the fact that we’ve arrested you multiple times but have never been able to charge you is exactly the reason I want to hire you. I need someone who can get me what I need without getting caught. I think you are that someone.”

 

The president gave her a grin that looked almost wolfish. “I heard once that every good thief is also a good spy.” she said. “If that’s true, you’re the kind of person I want working for me, not against me.”

 

Georgia didn’t know what to think. A part of her wanted to jump at the opportunity to use her skills for something more purposeful than the simple acquisition of money – of which, admittedly, she had more than enough. It was mostly getting to know Percival that made her think like this, seeing the passion he still had for his job even after Grindelwald and how he firmly believed he was making the world a better place. For a time now she had wanted something like this too, something to give her the chance to do some good, and here Picquery was offering it on a silver platter.

 

Another part, though, couldn’t help but mistrust Picquery’s offer, couldn’t help but resent the barest idea of working for an organization as rigid and uncompromising as MACUSA. Was that really what she wanted, really what was going to give her the feeling of purpose she had never quite found in her life?

 

Before she had the opportunity to find something to say, Picquery spoke again. “I understand this offer comes as a surprise.” she said. “Take some time to think about it. But I need an answer by the end of next week.” And then the president swept away into the crowd, leaving a flabbergasted Georgia behind.

 

She still couldn’t believe the exchange had really just happened when Percival reappeared. The annoyance on his face quickly morphed into worry. “You okay, Georgia?” he asked, taking her arm. “What did Seraphina want?”

 

Georgia mentally shook herself. She could think about Picquery’s offer later, not right now, when she’d come here to have fun and spend time with Percival. “I’ll tell you later.” she said, smiling at him. “For now…” She held out her hand. “Do you dance?”

 

He stared at her, seeming absolutely taken aback. His gaze flickered towards the dancing couples in the middle of the room and then towards the wampus cane he was leaning on. Finally, he said: “Not voluntarily.”

 

Georgia laughed. “Can you, though?”

 

Percival gave a long-suffering sigh, but she could see the hint of a smile in the lines around his eyes. “I learned as a kid.” he admitted. “I’m passable.”

 

She grinned at him. “Great.” she said. “Come on, then.” And with that she took his hand and pulled him with her towards the dance floor, ignoring his feeble protests.

 

He’d lied; even with his bad leg, he was more than a passable dancer. He held her a bit too tight every now and then, evidently struggling to keep his balance with his cane shrunken down into the folds of his jacket for the dance, but Georgia couldn’t say she minded, and otherwise he led her through the dance firmly but gently. She was breathless and giddy by the end of it, and Percival was smiling too, looking ten years younger. Georgia wanted to kiss him so badly she thought she would burst with the ache of it.

 

“We should go to your office.” she said, quiet enough so the couples surrounding them couldn’t hear her. “I want to be somewhere where I don’t have to worry who can see us.”

 

Percival swallowed, and his hand tightened around hers for reasons that she was sure were completely unrelated to balance. “Yes.” he said hoarsely. “We should.” He offered her his arm, unshrunk his cane and made his way through the crowd towards the elevators with surprising speed, Georgia’s heart fluttering in anticipation.

 

In the elevator, after he’d told the bored-looking house-elf operating it to take them to the DMLE, Percival put his hand on the small of her back. She could feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her dress and shivered.

 

The rooms of the DMLE were dark and empty, even the handful of unlucky aurors who had to be on call probably enjoying the gala until they were called out. His hand still firmly on her back, Percival led her through the rows of empty desks until they finally stepped into his office.

 

Georgia kissed him as soon as the door had closed behind them, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing as close to him as she could. He kissed her back immediately, one hand finding her waist even as he stumbled backwards, catching himself on the edge of his desk. His tongue grazed her lower lip and she gasped, angling her head to deepen the kiss.

 

Percival felt his way around the desk, kissing her all the while, until he dropped down into his office chair. Georgia climbed onto his lap, slightly hindered by her dress, and brushed her lips along Percival’s clean-shaven jaw. “Did you lock the door?” she whispered.

 

He blinked, seeming a little dazed. “Not sure.” he admitted hoarsely.

 

Georgia reached for her wand and waved it, hearing the door lock with a click. She added a muffling charm for good measure – she doubted anyone at MACUSA would approve of what they were about to use his office for – before she put her wand away and kissed Percival with new fervor.

 

He had one hand on her back, keeping her poised on his lap, but the other was roaming her body, pushing up her dress so his fingers were brushing the inside of her thigh. Georgia could feel his erection pushing against the fabric of his pants, and desire curled deep in her stomach.

 

She unbuttoned his vest and shirt, hands trembling with the urge to touch his bare skin. When they were finally out of the way she ran her hands over his torso, smooth unmarred skin alternating with rough scar tissue. Percival had put on significant weight since she’d gotten him out of captivity, and while he wasn’t yet as muscular as he’d been before she could still feel his taut muscles under his skin.

 

His fingers were now moving even higher, and Georgia couldn’t stop a moan from slipping out of her mouth as they found their way into her underwear. She almost lost her balance, barely steadying herself against his bare torso.

 

Percival pulled his hand back a little and she let out a sound of protest that was very close to a whimper. “Don’t stop.” she breathed out. “Keep going, please.”

 

A moment later his fingers were back, and it was all Georgia could do to cling to him like she was drowning as he brought her to the edge with purposeful, skilled movements. She exhaled his name as she came, moaning her orgasm into the crook of his neck.

 

When it was over she felt almost boneless, slumped against Percival’s chest, but after a moment she realized that he was still unsatisfied, his erection pressing against her crotch through his pants. She sat up, grinning at him lazily. “That was amazing.” she said. “But now it’s your turn.”

 

He swallowed visibly. “Georgia…” She interrupted him, putting a finger to his lips. “Shush. Just sit back and relax.”

 

Georgia stood up and went to her knees in front of him, fumbling for the buttons of his pants. Percival shimmied a little so she could pull them down and they fell to the ground, discarded. She smiled up at him, running her fingers teasingly down his bare chest and stomach and feeling the tension there. “I mean it.” she said. “Relax.”

 

She leant forward, loosened hair spilling over his lap, and took him in her mouth.

 

* * *

 

Thanks to such marvelous inventions as straightening and cleaning charms, they both looked presentable by the time they rejoined the gala, though Georgia still felt a little weak in the knees.

 

“You know, these things are really much more enjoyable with you here.” Percival said next to her, lips twitching into a smirk. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun at anything MACUSA related.”

 

Georgia grinned. “Most things are more enjoyable with me there.” she said, and Percival laughed, one of very few real laughs she had ever heard from him. The sound made her heart miss another beat, something it tended to do around him. “Sure they are.” he said. “Come on, let’s get another drink. I’m suddenly very thirsty.”

 

They were cornered by some of Percival’s aurors on their way to get drinks and spent the rest of the evening making small talk with them and various other MACUSA employees. Most of them didn’t know who Georgia was, even though many knew her family by name, and they were perfectly polite, if a little dull. They didn’t talk to the Goldstein sisters again, but Georgia caught the blond one, Queenie, shooting her an odd, long glance once.

 

It was long after midnight by the time they finally headed towards the apparition point again. Percival, playing the perfect gentleman, helped her into her coat and smiled at her. “What do you think about a nightcap?” he asked.

 

She smiled back broadly. “Absolutely.” she said. “Your place, though. Tammy is really terribly judgmental lately.”

 

Percival pressed one hand to his chest as if he’d been wounded. “What? I thought Tammy liked me.”

 

Georgia realized she was probably a little bit tipsy from the champagne as she was already speaking. “Oh, she likes you very much; that’s the point.” she said. “Tammy thinks I couldn’t possibly do any better than you. She keeps telling me to, in her words, lock you down.”

 

His smile fell, and he looked inexplicably sad all of the sudden. “She must really like me.” he said, all playfulness gone from his voice. “I think you could definitely do better than some bitter, scarred workaholic.”

 

There were a few other wizards and witches in the corridor with them, but Georgia didn’t care; she got on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Even if I thought there was such a thing, I wouldn’t want to do better.” she said very softly. “I want you, scars and all.”

 

He gave her a look of half disbelief, half marvel, and seemed like he couldn’t quite figure out what to say. His hands were hovering just above her waist, as if he didn’t dare touch her. After a few long seconds he cleared his throat. “Let’s, uh… let’s head to my place, then.” he said, seeming slightly flustered. “Come on.”

 

Georgia took his arm, wishing he could see just how amazing he was in her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

She awoke to someone kissing her forehead.

 

“It’s Sunday.” she grumbled without opening her eyes, even as she felt a smile tugging at her lips. “Go back to sleep.”

 

Percival chuckled. “It’s after ten.” he said. “How much champagne did you have yesterday?”

 

Georgia reached out blindly, smacking him on the shoulder. “Enough to potentially hex you if you don’t either let me go back to sleep or get me some coffee.”

 

He laughed again, and she finally opened her eyes, looking up at him. His hair was ruffled and messy and there was a slight shadow of stubble on his jaw, but he was smiling at her. “Since when are you a morning person anyway?” she asked.

 

“I’m not.” he admitted. “But I already had a cup of coffee. You were sleeping like a rock.”

 

Georgia couldn’t resist the urge to snuggle closer to him, placing a lazy kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Any chance I can get one too?” Percival smiled and kissed her properly, a short and sweet kiss that left her feeling pleasantly dizzy. “I might just like you enough to be convinced to share my coffee with you, yeah.” he said.

 

They shared a few more lazy, soft kisses before they finally got out of bed. Georgia pulled on one of Percival’s too large shirts and eagerly downed her first cup of coffee. By the time she was on her second one she felt the nagging of hunger and went rummaging through Percival’s kitchen cabinets to find them pitifully empty.

 

“No wonder you never eat.” she said. “You’ve got nothing here except coffee and firewhiskey.”

 

He shrugged. “I usually eat at MACUSA.” he said. “I’m not much of a breakfast person.”

 

Georgia clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I believe breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” she said. “So let’s go get some; there’s this great no-maj café near my place and I have to get some more appropriate clothes anyway.”

 

Percival’s smile fell, and Georgia immediately realized her mistake. Ever since his imprisonment he’d spent his time between her house, his apartment and MACUSA, all relatively safe places where Grindelwald would most likely not be able to get to him, and with MACUSA dragging their feet to fully clear him for duty he hadn’t done any field work either. Going out into public where he’d be vulnerable to any attack probably brought back all kinds of anxiety for him.

 

“Or we could just eat at my place.” she suggested hastily. “Tammy always makes sure I have food there, I…”

 

He interrupted her, giving her a weak smile. “No, let’s… let’s do it.” he said. “I could actually go for some breakfast.”

 

“You sure?” Georgia asked carefully.

 

Percival turned his face away. “Not entirely.” he admitted quietly. “But I want to do it anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Percival was tense and silent on their way from her house to the café, and when Georgia noticed his free hand trembling she threaded her fingers through his, feeling where some of them had healed crookedly after Grindelwald had broken them. He relaxed a bit after that, though he was still holding his cane tight enough to make his knuckles whiten.

 

In the café, Georgia deliberately picked a table in the corner where they had some privacy but still had a full view of the room. Percival kept his hand inside his coat, presumably curled around his wand, and remained silent as Georgia gave the no-maj waitress their order. When the young woman disappeared again, Georgia reached out and put her hand on his arm.

 

“Breathe.” she said softly. “Say the word and we’re out of here.”

 

He gave her a tight, forced smile. “I’m fine.” he said. “Just… can you talk about something, anything? It distracts me.”

 

Abruptly, Georgia remembered Picquery’s offer. Until now she’d done a pretty good job keeping it out of her mind, but she’d have to consider it eventually, and she’d have to talk to Percival about it too. “I actually have something to tell you that’s going to distract you plenty.” she said. “Picquery offered me a job.”

 

Percival’s eyes widened. “She did what?” he repeated incredulously.

 

Georgia gave him a lopsided smile. “I know, I couldn’t believe it either.” she said. “Apparently her head of Clandestine Services is retiring and she wants me to replace him.”

 

“I know him.” Percival said. “Bartholomew Harrison. He’s an idiot, frankly. I don’t know he got that position in the first place; his department does absolutely no valuable work.” He paused for a moment before he asked: “Are you considering it?”

 

She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure.” she admitted. “I mean, I didn’t honestly think I’d be a thief for the rest of my life. But… it’s what I know, and I don’t know if working for MACUSA is really what I want to do. I guess I…” She hesitated, and looked at her hands when she said: “I guess I’m finally grown up enough to want to do something purposeful with my life, but I’m not sure MACUSA is the place to do that.”  

 

Percival was silent, as if he was considering what to say. Finally he said: “No one can make that decision for you. But you’re talented and smart and resourceful, and I know you’d be a great asset for MACUSA, if you decide that’s what you want.” He smiled at her. “And for what it’s worth, I would love working with you, even though it would probably be very distracting.”

 

Georgia felt her lips curl into a smile. “That would be very distracting.” she agreed. “We would have to figure out a way to actually use your office for something productive.”

 

“I don’t know.” Percival said, shrugging, his smile turning into a smirk. “I think what we did there during the gala was very productive.”

 

Their food arrived just as Georgia was about to answer. They made some lighthearted conversation while they ate and some of the nervous tension vanished from Percival’s face, though it never fully disappeared. Georgia wanted to suggest a walk through the pleasantly warm spring air after they were done, but by then Percival was growing visibly uneasy again, especially when they were back out on the street.

 

“I’m sorry.” he said as they made their way back to her apartment, so quiet she could barely hear him over the general bustle of the city, his shoulders hunched. “This shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be so nervous over something as simple as this. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

 

Georgia stopped to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” she said softly. “You went through something incredibly traumatic, and you’re only human. Anyone would need time to readjust.”

 

He didn’t look convinced but didn’t say anything else either, only let out a shaky breath. Georgia squeezed his arm. “Let’s go home.” she said.

 

She made her decision that night, with Percival asleep next to her. Sure, there were a lot more reasons to take a job with MACUSA, but the one that eventually solidified her decision was that she wanted this thing between her and Percival to have a future, and it couldn’t have one while they were on opposite sides of the law.

 

A few months ago, she probably would’ve laughed at the mere thought of even considering her feelings for a man for a decision as life-changing as this, but now – now she only snuggled closer to him with a smile and closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, after Percival had left for work, Georgia got dressed and headed for MACUSA herself. It was ridiculously easy to get onto the executive floor and she made a mental note to tell the president to tighten her security; anyone with a halfway decently forged wand permit could have just waltzed in here.

 

In front of Picquery’s office, a tall, lanky wizard with a permanent-looking frown on his face and a tiny wisp of a mustache was sitting at a desk. He only looked up when Georgia cleared her throat loudly. “Can I help you?” he asked.

 

“I’m here to see President Picquery.” she said politely.

 

The man looked her up and down slowly, frown deepening. Georgia didn’t let it faze her; she’d faced far more intimidating people than the president’s secretary in her life. Finally, he said: “Your name?”

 

She smiled at him sweetly. “Georgia Kingsley.” she said. “And if you let the president know I’m here, she’ll tell you she’s expecting me.”

 

He wrinkled his nose. “The president is very busy.”

 

With some effort, Georgia kept her face blank and the annoyance from her voice when she said: “She’ll want to hear what I have to say, believe me.”

 

To her surprise, the man didn’t argue any more. “Very well.” he said stiffly. “I’ll let the president know you wish to speak to her. But don’t expect to be received right away. Madame Picquery is an important woman.”

 

He stalked away through the door behind him and returned only moments later, looking like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “The president will see you now.” he said, with an expression as if he’d much rather told her to leave. Georgia couldn’t quite keep a self-satisfied smile off her face as she strode past him into the president’s office.

 

Picquery was sitting in a high-backed chair behind a massive oaken desk, looking as regal as ever in midnight blue robes and a matching headdress. “Miss Kingsley.” she said, pushing aside the pile of official documents in front of her. “Please, sit down.”

 

As Georgia sat down in one of two chairs in front of the president’s desk, Picquery said: “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Are you here to accept my offer?”

 

Georgia inclined her head slightly. “Yes.” she said. “But I have some conditions.”

 

Picquery’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t look offended. If anything, she appeared mildly interested when she said: “Let’s hear them.”

 

Georgia decidedly pushed down any hint of nervousness she felt in the president’s presence and began to speak in a firm voice. “One, I report directly to you. No inter-departmental conflicts or anything like that, I’m not cut out for that. Two, I get full authority to restructure the department however I see fit. That includes firing people as well as hiring new employees and changing protocols and training programs. And finally, my name is expunged from every case I have ever been even remotely implicated in.”

 

The president was silent for what felt like an eternity but what was probably only a second or two. Finally, she said: “Done, done, and done. Sign the paperwork and the job is yours. You can start next Monday.”

 

And just like that, with only a handful of signatures, Georgia became MACUSA’s head of the Department of Clandestine Services.

 

* * *

 

Picquery had her secretary, who Georgia learned was named Aidan Miller, take her to the department of Clandestine Services, where she met her predecessor, Bartholomew Harrison. He was morbidly overweight, looked like he was approximately a hundred years old and apparently couldn’t wait to pass his job on to her.

 

Georgia had to agree with Percival; the department didn’t look like any actual work ever happened here. The handful of people that were even present were lounging at their desks, looking bored out of their minds; she was sure that she’d have to change things up a lot to get the department remotely close to effective.

 

After her brief talk with Harrison, Miller, looking like he hated every second of it, escorted her to wizarding resources, where they issued her an official MACUSA identification card and an updated wand permit. This process took longer than Georgia would ever have thought possible, bureaucracy at its finest, and by the time she was finally done it was after noon.

 

Georgia didn’t think she could possibly wait to tell Percival until this evening, so she rode the elevator to the DMLE and walked through the auror bullpen, ignoring the stares she got from some of them and nodding a greeting to a surprised Tina Goldstein. When she knocked on Percival’s office door, his answer came after a moment. “Come in.”

 

He looked slightly annoyed and the interruption, but the annoyance quickly turned into surprise when he saw her. “Georgia.” he said. “What are you doing here?”

 

She grinned. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? Can’t I just have lunch with a fellow department head?”

 

Georgia saw the exact moment he realized what she’d said, his lips curling towards a smile. “You took the job.” he said. “That’s amazing, Georgia.”

 

“I was just down there and it looks like it’s going to be a lot of work getting the department working, but yeah.” she said. “I’m actually feeling very good about my decision.” That was the truth; any doubt she’d still had was gone, cementing her belief that she had been right in taking Picquery’s offer.

 

“When do you start?” asked Percival.

 

“Next Monday.” she replied. “But I’ll tell you more over lunch. Come on, I hear the MACUSA cafeteria food doesn’t taste as awful as it looks.”

 

Percival hesitated. “I have a lot of work, and…”

 

Georgia interrupted him, rolling her eyes. “Let’s not have that discussion again.” she said. “You need to eat, and believe me, I won’t hesitate to hex you in front of your aurors if that’s what it takes to get you to take care of yourself for once.”

 

He chuckled, even as he gave her that look again that never failed to make her shiver. “Alright.” he said. “I suppose I can spare half an hour.”

 

When he got to his feet and made for the door, Georgia stopped him. “Wait.” she said. “I want to do this as long as we’re still in an office where no one can see us.” She got on her tiptoes and kissed him, long and hard. They were both slightly out of breath by the time she pulled away, and Percival was looking a little disheveled.

 

“Now we can go.” she said with a smirk, hooking her hand into the crook of Percival’s arm. He shot her an exasperated glance. “You’re evil.” he muttered under his breath, smoothing his suit with a flick of his wand. Georgia only laughed.

 

* * *

 

“Checkmate.”

 

Georgia groaned. “I hate you so much right now.” she said from where she was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

 

Percival, propped up on one arm on the other side of the chessboard, grinned at her. “It’s not my fault you keep recklessly sacrificing all of your pieces.”

 

“My sacrifices aren’t reckless, they’re calculated!” she protested. “You’re just scarily good at this.”

 

He shrugged. “Well, I have a lot of practice.” he said. “My sister and I used to play all the time when we were kids.”

 

Georgia looked at him, surprised. Percival rarely spoke about his family; she knew that his parents had been dead for a while, but that was it. He had never even mentioned a sister before, not in all the months he’d lived with her. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” she said.

 

His smile fell, and there was sadness in his eyes when he said: “We haven’t seen each other in years. Imogen, she… she moved to Britain to marry a no-maj, before the war started. My parents didn’t approve, and we kept in contact for a while, but… I guess our lives are just too different at this point.” 

 

Georgia was silent for a moment, not quite sure what to say. Finally she asked: “Do you miss her?”

 

Percival let out a quiet sigh. “Sometimes.” he admitted. “But I don’t even know how I would go about contacting her now. We haven’t talked for so long, and I’m not exactly the brother she knew anymore. I’m not sure she even wants me in her life anymore.”

 

Georgia took a breath. “You could just write to her.” she suggested. “Look, I don’t have siblings, but what’s the worst thing that could happen? If she doesn’t want anything to do with you, then at least you’ll know. But if you don’t try, then you’ll always wonder what might have happened.”

 

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Maybe.” he muttered thoughtfully, but then he looked up and smiled at her. “All that aside, still feeling good about tomorrow?”

 

She smiled back, ignoring the flutter of nervousness in her stomach. She’d officially start at MACUSA tomorrow, and initially Harrison had been meant to stay on for a few more weeks while she got accustomed to her new role, but he had opted to retire to Florida with his wife as soon as Georgia took over. It was probably better that way – she doubted Harrison would have taken kindly to her overhauling the whole department – but she couldn’t deny she was feeling just the slightest bit jittery.

 

“I am a little nervous.” she admitted. “But I’ve already planned out what I’m going to do, and besides – I can’t do worse than Harrison, can I?”

 

Percival smiled. With a wave of his wand, the chess pieces stacked themselves neatly onto the board and floated away to the cupboard. He grabbed her arms and pulled her on top of him, kissing her slowly and sweetly. “You’re going to do great.” he whispered against her lips. “MACUSA won’t know what hit them.”

 

Georgia grinned. “While I appreciate your confidence in me, I could still use some distraction.” she said.

 

His lips twitched into a smirk. “I can do that.” he replied, before his mouth caught hers in a kiss that distracted her quite thoroughly.


End file.
